DRAMATIC  WORKS 


DANIEL  BEDINGER  LUC 


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DRAMATIC  WORKS 

of 
DANIEL  BEDINGER  LUCAS 

Edited  by 
Charles  W.  Kent,  Ph.  D. 

and 

Virginia  Lucas 


With  a  Critical  Introduction  by 
C.  F.  Tucker  Brooke,  A.  M.,  B.  LitL 


University  of  Virginia  Edition 


ARTIetVPRITATi; 


RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
BtoHTiQN 


Copyright  1913  by  Virginia  Lucas 
All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Oorham  I^ress^  BosUfn,  U.  S.  A, 


DEDICATED 

To  the  Memory  of 

John  Yates  Bball 

"So  do  these  chains  give  out  a  melody 
Athwart  my  life,  that  soothes  me,  when 

I  think 
Upon  the  CAUSE  for  which  I  suffer  them. 


303451 


INTRODUCTION 

IT  was  the  fortune  of  Judge  Lucas  to  view  the 
war  between  the  States  from  somewhat  novel 
angles .  As  a  life-long  resident  of  that  portion 
of  Virginia  which  suffered  more  than  most 
others  during  the  strife  and  which  had  afterward  to 
endure  the  further  permanent  distress  of  political 
alienation,  it  was  natural  for  him  to  envisage  the 
war  as  a  Colossus,  all-embracing,  all-consuming, 
and  heroic,  dwarfing  the  common  purposes  of  life 
and  exalting  for  ever  certain  generous  unrealities. 
It  is  this  attitude  of  mind — that  of  the  representa- 
tive Virginian  of  the  Sixties — which  inspires  many 
of  his  finest  lyrics,  an  attitude  never  accompanied 
in  his  case  by  short-sightedness  or  bigotry,  yet 
instinct  always  with  devotion  to  the  One  Cause. 
The  physical  disability,  however,  which  pre- 
vented Mr.  Lucas  from  following  steadily  the  ban- 
ners of  one  regiment,  left  him  free  to  serve  his 
state  and  comrades  in  even  more  picturesque 
fashion.  It  led  him  to  carry  his  zeal  through  in- 
teresting backwaters  of  the  struggle,  where  the 
clash  of  cause  with  cause,  though  always  audible, 
no  longer  filled  the  whole  consciousness;  where 
comparative  aloofness  made  it  possible  to  observe 
against  the  background  of  war  the  single  indi- 
vidual in  his  private  career  of  love,  adventure,  or 
intrigue.  In  such  observation  lay  the  genesis 
of  Mr.  Lucas's  plays.  As  memorials  of  the  war 
they  have  real  interest,  the  interest  attaching  to 

V 


VI  INTRODUCTION 

the  record  of  a  very  keen  and  fortunately -placed 
eye-witness;  but  the  lights  they  throw  are  side- 
lights, discovering  small  isolated  groups  of  men 
and  women  whose  individual  lives  and  characters 
are  not  obscured,  but  rather  the  more  strikingly 
silhouetted  against  the  cloud  of  distant  war. 

The  manifold  romantic  incidents  of  blockade- 
running,  the  bleak  but  stirring  experiences  of 
prison-escape  and  Canadian  exile,  the  rude  emer- 
gence of  primitive  instincts  of  law  and  right  amid 
the  trebly  fratricidal  anarchy  of  the  western 
border  states,  were  all  familiar  to  the  poet. 
From  them  he  has  taken  both  the  setting  and  the 
atmosphere  of  his  three  plays;  and  in  his  presenta- 
tion of  the  types  and  facts  involved  he  shows  often 
an  impartiality  of  political  judgment  rather 
surprising  in  so  ardent  an  adherent. 

Readers,  fortunate  enough  to  remember  Judge 
Lucas  from  actual  association,  will  doubtless  feel 
the  impress  of  his  rare  mind  and  personality  less 
in  the  handling  of  plot  and  incident,  clever  as 
these  sometimes  are,  than  in  the  lofty  poetry  of 
many  speeches  and  in  the  comic  matter  which  he 
has  introduced  with  a  luxuriance  and  variety 
almost  Elizabethan.  Though  ranging  from  in- 
cisive satire  of  martial-law  jurisprudence  and 
empirical  political  economy  to  mere  purposeless 
cascades  of  frothing  pun  and  repartee,  there  is 
hardly  a  line  of  comedy  which  seems  to  have  come 
slowly  from  the  author's  pen.     Even  when  most 


INTRODUCTION  VII 

fantastic,  it  is  hardly  less  spontaneous  or  more 
brilliant  than  was  his  table  talk. 

Though  Judge  Lucas's  most  permanent  contribu- 
tion as  a  poet  will  doubtless  be  found,  where  he 
would  himself  have  indicated  it,  in  his  lyrics  of 
patriotism  and  sentiment,  the  poetic  distinction 
of  his  plays  is  quite  indisputable.  The  use  of 
blank  verse  is  never  with  him,  as  it  has  so  often 
been  with  closet  dramatists,  a  mere  presump- 
tuous affectation  or  a  garish  cloak  to  cover  the 
writer's  incapacity  for  realistic  dialogue.  In  few 
of  his  metrical  scenes  does  he  descend  even  tem- 
porarily to  the  emotional  level  of  prose.  In 
many  passages  the  reader  will  be  struck  by  his 
high  power  and  eloquence  in  describing  natural 
beauty  or  voicing  exalted  sentiment. 

The  most  memorable  single  figure  in  the  plays 
is  perhaps  Hildebrand,  a  curious  analogue  and 
reversal  of  the  "Sturm  und  Drang"  heroes  of 
GoTz  VON  Berlichingen  and  The  Robbers, 
waging  desperate  war  against  society,  not  like 
the  characters  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  in  vindica- 
tion of  individual  right  against  the  corruptions 
of  a  too  self-centred  and  peace-loving  com- 
munity, but,  paradoxically,  in  defence  of  the 
right  to  abstain  from  civil  war!  Two  short 
extracts  from  Hildebrand 's  speeches  illustrate 
both  Mr.  Lucas's  metrical  power  and  the  force 
with  which  he  can  put  an  argument  clearly  not 
his  own: 


VIII  INTRODUCTION 

"  My  loyalty !     I  'm  loyal  to  a  fault ! 

More  so  than  they  who  drench  our  land  in  blood ! 

Good  sooth!    the  Northern  hordes  are  loyal,  are 

they— 
Blazing  their  way  by  light  of  peaceful  homes ! 
And  you  are  loyal,  as  your  leaders  are. 
Who  forced  this  issue  on  the  unwilling  mass. 
By  firing  first,  without  suflScient  cause ! 
Both  loyal !  all  are  loyal !  save  the  few 
Who  stand  with  folded  arms  and  naked  breasts, 
And  say :  we  will  not  dip  our  hands  in  blood; 
We  will  not  slay  our  brethren,  but  will  feed. 
Will  clothe  them  all — attend  the  sick — will  watch, 
Will  pray — and  while  we  have,  divide  our  bread. 
And  share  with  all  alike!" 

(Act  I,  Scene  I.) 

"We  dwelt  here  mountaineers, 
Far  from  the  caldron  party -spirit  boils — 
Free  as  our  crystal  springs  or  atmosphere; 
We  loved  the  Union,  and  our  State  no  less. 
We  saw  no  cause  for  war,  and  made  no  outcry ; 
We  had  few  slaves,  nor  cared  to  fight  for  them. 
Yet  knew  no  right  to  challenge  those  who  owned. 
We  were  for  peace  and  all  that  made  for  it. " 

(Act,   I   Scene   IV.) 

The  distinctive  Southern  attitude  toward 
States'  Rights  finds  expression  in  yet  more 
poetic  language  in  Carter  Bland 's  fine  last  speech 


INTRODUCTION  IX 

(Kate  McDonald,  Act  IV,  Scene  II),  which,  in 
Bland's  plea  for  his  associate,  Pennington  gives 
an  instance  also  of  the  author's  power  of  vivid 
and  condensed  description: — 

"  I  found  him  in  his  pupil 's  gown  at  school. 

All  full  of  puns  and  crudities  of  speech. 

And  such  pedantic  show  of  pretty  words. 

As  students  half  articulate  in  speech 

Stake  all  their  reputation  on  when  young. 

I  fired  his  fancy  with  my  hopes  and  aims, 

I  led  him  from  the  paths  of  light  and  law — 

The  porch  and  grove  of  old  philosophy — 

The  lecture  bench  and  notes  of  scholiasts — 

The  heights  which  science  like  a  star  illumes — 

To  take  a  share  with  me  in  dangerous  venture. " 

The  same  high  mastery  of  felicitous  detail  and 
phrase  appear  in  Hildebrand's  description  of  his 
sentinel,  the  eagle  (Act  II,  Scene  I),  in  the  ex- 
quisite songs  of  The  Maid  of  Northumberland, 
and  in  the  picture  of  the  evening  on  which  Beall  's 
attempt  upon  the  prison  of  Johnson's  Island 
miscarried — an  issue  momentous  in  the  life  of  the 
poet : — 

"The  eve  rose  beautifully  bright; 
The  Northern  twilight  boimd  the  day  to  night 
With  bridge  of  gold,  reflecting  either  shore; 
Later,  the  evening-star  arose,  and  soon 


X  INTRODUCTION 

A  shower  of  arrows,  silver-tipped  fell  down 
From  out  the  homed  quiver  of  the  moon; 
The  Aurora  flung  great  streams  of  milky  light 
Athwart  the  glory  of  the  Northern  sky; 
Proud  Sirius  blazed,  Orion  answered  him; 
While  sinking  in  the  South,  the  Warrior  waved 
His  sword  of  fire,  and  girt  his  golden  belt ! 
Then  Beall,  the  lion-hearted,  neared  the  Isle, 
And  waited  for  the  signals  to  ascend — 
But  none  disturbed  the  temper  of  the  night. " 

(Kate  McDonald,  Act  I,  Scene  II). 
C.  F.  Tucker  Brooke. 
Yale  University,  January,  1913, 


CONTENTS 

Introduction  by  C.    F.  Tucker  Brooke,  A.  M., 

B.  LiTT V 

The  Maid  of  Northumberland 9 

Hildebrand 133 

Kate  McDonald 199 


THE  MAID  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 


To 

HENRY  KYD  DOUGLAS 

OF  Maryland 

Affectionately  inscribed  as  a  token  of  the 
Author's  Friendship,  and  Appreciation. 


DRAMATIS  PERSON.E 


Clarence  Fauntleroy,  The  Blockade-Runner,  (in 
love  with  Mima.) 

Fairfax  Lamoir His  Partner 

Randal  Glaive An  Adventurer 

Sergeant  Johnson Randal  in  disguise 

Rev.  Felix  Moss Same  in  disguise 

Caspar  Queen The  Tollkeeper 

Caleb  Jones A  Financier 

Jesse  Otter  (Uncle  Jess) Colored 

Col.  Matthews .  .  Officer  in  the  Confederate  Army- 
Lieut.    Field His   Adjutant 

Ralph  Simpson,  Secret  Agent  of  the  Conscription 

Bureau 
Captain  Bain,  Master  in  the  Navy  (attached  to 
Signal  Corps) 

Capt.  Coke, Judge  Advocate 

Members  of  Court  Martial,  'Longshoremen,  Or- 
derly, Citizens,  Soldiers,  Guard,  etc. 
Mima  Queen Tollkeeper 's  Daughter. 

Scene — Northumberland,  Virginia,  opposite 
Tangier  Island,  except  Scene  I,  Act  V.,  which  is  in 
New  Kent. 


THE  MAID  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 

ACT  I 

Scene    I. — Coast  of  Northumberland,    opposite 
Tangier  Island. 

Enter  Fairfax  Lamoir,  Randal  Glaive,  and  three 
*  Longshoremen,  disembarking  from  the  ''Wild 
Duck.'' 

Fairfax. 
Thank  God,  on  shore  at  last! 

Randal. 

Thank  God  on  shore ! 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
Did  I  not  say  what  Tangier  Sound  was,  mates? 
I  pinted  to  the  Light 'ouse — showed  just  where 
The  Backbone  split  the  water  to  Sou'  West, 
And  warned  all  hands  agin  the  venture — said 
I  knowed  we'd  never  make  the  mainland  safe. 

Fairfax. 
But  you  proved  wrong,  my  friend — we're  safe  at 

last. 
And  though  the  peril  was  more  imminent 
Than  we  foresaw,  yet  want  of  skill  in  us 
Proved  more  in  value  than  your  prescience; 
For  had  we  known  to  read  the  clouds  like  you. 
And  seen  them  lettered  with  the  coming  storm. 
Our  courage  might  not  have  endured  the  risk, 
To  leave  the  Island,  and  beyond  all  doubt 


The  ship  we  saw,  and  gave  the  slip  to  her. 
Ere  this  had  captured  us. 

RandaL 

If  forty  ships, 
Blaekmouthed   with   more   than   forty   hundred 

guns, 
Were  steering  toward  the  Isle,  and  I  on  her, 
The  fear  of  certain  death  by  staying  there, 
Could  not  give  me  the  heart  and  nerve  again 
To  put  that  half-inch  plank  between  my  life 
And  my  perdition ! 

*  Longshoremen. 

No,  nor  oum,  Captain ! 
Fairfax. 
All's  well  that  ends  well!  and  therefore  adieu 
To  vague  surmise  of  wat'ry  grave,  since  we 
Have  safely  rode  the  storm  at  last.     Now  who 
Can  tell  what  coast  this  is  we've  chanced  upon.? 

Randal. 
Virginia  certain;  but  for  what  degree 
Of  latitude — what  inlet,  or  what  county, 
I  cannot  certify. 

3d  *  Longshoreman. 
Northumberland : 
Behold  upon  the  South,  Old  Bluff  holds  up 
His  signal  head,  while  Windmill  answers  him 
Still  furder  out;  they  are  in  Lancaster; 
Now  draw  your  lines  between  them  two  and  us, 
Then  split  the  fork  exact,  you  hit  Stingray 
In  Middlesex;  and  here's  Northumberland. 

2d  'Longshoreman. 
This  hyuh's  Northumberland,  that's  certain. 
Fairfax. 

Right! 
I  do  begin  to  recognize  the  coast, 
Well  known  to  me  as  faces  of  my  friends, 
And  no  less  dear  than  known. 
10 


To  other  thanks  which  I  owe  God  for  shelter, 
Must  now  be  added  that  our  haven  proves 
Just  where  my  carrier  wishes  mailed  my  thoughts. 
Good  men  and  true — brave  partners  of  our  peril — 
I  must  reward  you  amply  for  this  service, 
Beyond  the  hire  we  did  contract. 

[Gives  the  'Shoreman  gold.] 
And  Randal, 
If  you're  for  Richmond,  on  with  me,  for  I 
Know  now  my  bearings,  and  can  give  you  chart, 
Although  my  journey  ends  upon  this  coast. 
But  first,  assist  me  disembark  my  box. 
And  lend  an  arm  to  carry  for  a  space; 
For  mind,  it  is  not  safe  to  linger  here; 
This  region  swarms  with  straggling  partisans. 
Who  make  no  scruple  of  your  purse  or  life. 

[R.  and  F.  disembark,  carrying  the  Box.] 
And,  'Shoremen,  you  had  better  row  from  hence, 
And  seek  some  shelter  bss  exposed  to  view. 

*  Longshoremen. 
We'll  hug  the  shore,  and  haul  up  out  of  sight. 

[The  'Longshoremen  shove  off.     Fairfax  and 
Randal  exeunt.] 


Scene   II 

A  high  promontory  overleaning  the  Bay;  a  6it  of 
sea  is  visible  on  the  right y  and  an  old  ruin  not  distant 
on  the  left. 

[Enter  Fairfax  and  Randal  bearing  the  box.    Scen- 
ic effect  picturesque.] 

Fairfax. 
Now  from  this  point,  we  see  the  coast  is  clear; 
Before  we  farther  push  our  journey  North, 
11 


This  box  must  have  from  me  concealing  care — 
I  fear  to  venture  farther  on  with  it: 

[They  set  down  the  hox.\ 

Tonight  I  will  return  and  take  it  with  me; 
You  must  assist  me  in  the  present  burial, 
And  for  your  friendly  oflSces,  hereafter, 
You  may  command  me  if  your  need  require. 

Randal. 
I  will  pass  on. 

Fairfax. 
Nay  stay;  double  my  strength: 
For  I  need  expedition  in  my  cause. 
Lest  some  surprise  o'ertake  and  ruin  me. 

[They  dig  with  sharpened  stakes.] 
Were  all  graves  so  enfurnitured  as  this, 
I'd  be  a  resurrectionist  by  trade. 

Randal. 
And  I'd  contract  for  Gabriel's  oflSce, 
Ere  every  grave  gave  up  its  buried  corpse. 

Fairfax. 
You  would  not  be  afraid  of  ghosts? 

Randal. 

Not  I! 
The  ghosts  that  gold  and  silver  can  not  lay 
Are  far  too  thin  for  danger,  night  or  day. 
[Aside.]     And  this  I'll  prove,  ere  he  have  time  to 
pray! 

Fairfax. 
Is  it  not  deep  enough? 

Randal. 

Not  quite,  I  think; 
A  horse's  hoof  might  penetrate  the  sand. 

Fairfax. 
Hold  there!    I've  broke  my  stake! 


12 


Randal. 

No  matter — 
There  lies  a  paddle;  heave  away  the  sand; 
I'll  rest  awhile  and  survey  up  the  beach — 

[Randal  retires  a  short  distance  and  sits  dovm,] 
[Aside]      'Tis  rare  that  opportunity  so  tempts 
A  man,  by  laying  treasures  at  his  feet; 
The  fool  himself  invites  me  to  the  deed, 
Gives  vent  to  what  I've  smothered  in  my  breast, 
And  bids  my  buried  purpose  germinate; 
'Tis  wartime,  and  adventure  in  the  wind; 
The  crop  of  man  is  overgrown;  let  live 
The  fittest  to  survive  and  thrall  the  rest ! 
The  thirsty  earth,  when  drinking  one  spring  more 
Of  human  life,  accounts  it  as  a  thing 
Of  no  more  value  than  her  flinty  sand. 
That  swallows  it,  and  seems  to  cry  for  more ! 
For  God,  supposing  there  should  be  a  God, 
Has  wound  the  world  up  for  the  century. 
And  gone  to  sleep,  or  fallen  from  his  throne; 
And  so,  in  humor  with  the  blood-stained  time, 
I'll  close  on  fortune  ere  she  close  on  me: 
My  resolution  falters  now  no  more ! 
The  deed  must  follow,  where  Temptation  goes 

before ! 

Fairfax. 
Are  we  still  unobserved,  and  unapproached? 
I  think  now  we  have  depth  enough:  help  here. 
And  we'll  lift  in  the  box. 

[They  lift  it  in;  Uncle  Jess  parses  between  them 
and  the  ruin  unobserved.] 
Randal. 

So,  so:  'tis  in: 
Now  shovel  in  the  sand,  and  smoothly  turn : 
Then  yonder  stone  vnth  our  joint  strength  we'll 

heave 

IS 


Upon  the  grave,  to  mark  for  you  alone 
Where  rests  your  treasury. 

[They  roll  a  large  stone  upon^he  sj)ot.] 

Fairfax. 
Child  of  my  labor,  and  of  perils  born — 
Crusogenia  of  my  toil  lie  there! 
No  curious  worm  shall  batten  on  thy  form. 
For  when  his  tooth  shall  strike  in  solid  gold. 
He'll  rail  against  the  cheat,  as  fraudulent, 
And  cry  for  legal  tender — say  gold  is  but 
Commodity — no  measure  for  good  faith 
To  liquidate  the  debt  of  Nature  with : 
And  that  her  broker  worms,  whose  bargains  call 
For  regiments  of  merchantable  men. 
Will  none  of  it  but  will  protest  the  contracts, 
And  so  dissolve  their  syndicate ! 

Randal. 
Mark  some  device  upon  the  stone. 
Not  too  distinct,  but  yet  discernible. 
That  you  may  note  it,  when  none  other  shall. 

[Fairfax  engages  himself  in  marking  the  stone 
with  his  sailor's  knife.] 

Fairfax. 
There  now,  I've  chiseled  on  its  side  a  Cross, 
In  sign  of  Christian  burial. 

Randal. 
I  hope,  in  sign  of  final  resurrection. 

Fairfax. 
Amen :  now  let  us  on,  and  up  this  height : 
I  long  to  breathe  salt  air  again. 

Randal. 
[Aside]       Now  Fortune  like  a  wanton  flings 
From  out  the  window  of  high  heaven  her  signal, 
To  cheer  my  footsteps  on  to  her  embrace. 
Or  lead  them  down  to  ignominious  death ! 
Perish  the  doubt  that  intercepts  the  step, 
Which,  thus  invited,  leads  me  to  her  favor — 
14 


And  let  my  courage  overleap  the  height 
Of  all  that  stands  between  my  wish  and  me! 
[Aloud]       The  prospect,  Fairfax,  is  it  worth  the 

climb. 
To  such  high  eminence?     If  so,  go  out 
Still  further,  and  you'll  see  the  waste  expand 
Ev'n  to  the  Light  House  o'er  the  sandy  bar. 

Fairfax. 
'Tis  true;  the  prospect  widens  toward  the  sea; 
The  Bay,  so  lately  fretted  by  the  gale. 
Becalms  himself  within  his  wonted  girth, 
Immeasurably  full  of  majesty — 
Immeasurably  grand  in  all  his  ways — 
Immeasurably  wayward  in  his  strength, 
Save  this :  that  on  his  brow  is  written  law, 
And  in  his  moods  shines  out  Divinity, 
That  doth  restrain  him,  and  proclaim  a'oud. 
With  godlike  emphasis,  above  him  still. 
There  is  a  Master,  be  He  what  He  will! 


Randal. 


Go  farther  out! 


Fairfax. 
I  will !  but  follow  me. 
And  we  shall  overpeer  the  precipice. 
And  gaze  down  on  the  sea ! 

Randal. 
I'm  not  so  fearless  on  the  foot  as  you, 
And  so  I  balance  with  this  broken  stake. 
[Aside]    Now  is  my  opportunity 

[Launches  at  Fairfax  with  the  stake.] 

Fairfax. 
O,  foul!     What  would  you! 

[Fairfax  falls  over  the  precipice.  Randal  retires 
and  sits  upon  the  stone.] 
15 


Randal   [alone]. 
Well  done,  or  rashly,  still  the  deed  is  done! 
And  what  is  done  so,  never  can  be  undone! 
It  may  undo  the  doer:  itself  remains: 
I  must  reflect  upon  my  future  course : 

[after  a  pause.] 
Sometimes  'tis  true,  as  said,  there's  luck  in  leisure, 
But  oftener  through  expedition  lies 
The  road  to  fortune,  or  to  victory. 
This  treasure's  mine  by  the  oldest  title  known 
To  humankind:  but  what  to  do  with  it? 
I  can  not  carry  it  away: 
No  mule :  an  ass  it  may  be,  but  no  mule : 
Let's  see :  there  was  a  life  between  this  prize 
And  me:  now  he  is  out  of  it:  I  heir 
To  all  he  owned  and  buried  in  this  spot; 
One  eve,  upon  yon  Isle,  the  humor  took  him. 
And  he  described  a  maiden  hving  near 
Upon  this  coast,  so  beautiful  in  face, 
So  ripe,  elastically  turned  in  figure. 
That  fancy  fired  my  heart  with  passion  for  her; 
I'll  seek  her  out,  and  follow  fancy's  bent 
Until  a  favorable  gale  of  fortune 
Blow  me  some  aid  to  run  this  treasure  out 
To  Tangier  Isle,  or  Chrucoteague — 
Bravo !  a  plot  at  last,  engrafting  love 
Upon  adventure — with  pleasure  gilding  profit ! 
Come  here,  smooth  rolling  stone — I  will  imprint 
A  superscription  to  thy  gravelly  rind : 
No  other  link  I  see  'twixt  me  and  Nature : 
Come  here:  some  Fate,  I  know  not  what,  nor 

whence. 
Imparts  significance  to  thee,  and  bids 
Me  write  my  name  upon  thy  smoothworn  surface: 
[He  pencils  his  name  on  the  stone.] 
And  this  much  further  trust  I  to  thy  globe. 
That  I  will  throw  thee  where  we  never  meet : 
16 


But  if  we  should — and  if  we  should — why  then, 
Be  Fancy  guardian  of  our  further  plight, 
For  thus  she  prompts  me  to  indite : 

[Writes  o  i  the  stone:  reads  aloud:] 

Farewell!  a  long  farewell 

To  conscience,  turned  to  stone! 

Should  we  two  meet  again,  'tis  ill. 
For  I  will  do  as  thou  art  done. 
And  I  will  leap  where  thou  art  thrown! 
[Throws  the  stone  over  the  precipice.     Exit] 


Scene   III 

The  same. 
Enter    Clarence   Fauntleroy    and   Mima    Queen 
hearing  a  boXy  which  they  set  down,  and  take  their 
seat  upon  it. 

Mima. 
Aye  me!  highdiddle,  but  I  am  tired! 
Now  would  this  burden  of  Confederate  debt 
Had  fallen  on  some  other  arms  than  mine ! 

Fauntleroy. 
A  pretty  fall — to  call  true  money  debt! 
What  would  you  name  a  credit,  pray  you,  then? 

Mima. 
I  would  not  call  such  currency  a  credit! 

Fauntleroy. 
In  this  it  is  a  credit:  owe  we  not 
This  debt? 

Mima. 
So  much  I  grant  you,  that  we  do. 

Fauntleroy. 
Then  owing  it,  and  having  this  to  pay  it, 
Does  not  this  make  a  credit  of  our  debt? 
17 


Mima. 
Provided  that  the  debt  be  creditable! 

Fauntleroy. 
Why  every  debt  is  creditable,  when 
'Tis  paid,  for  if  'twere  otherwise,  no  credit 
Were  given  it:  as  thus:  should  I  kiss  you, 
I  were  your  debtor  for  a  kiss  so  lent — 

Mima. 
And  I  in  turn,  your  creditor  become 
To  the  score  of  a  box  on  the  left  ear. 

Fauntleroy. 
Which  credit  being  left,  the  balance  still 
Requires  more  advances  on  my  part — 

Mima. 
Nay,  nay!     I  cry  you  set  off !  you  denying 
My  plea,  I  must  in  turn  decline  your  suit. 
Whist !  here  my  father  comes ! 

[Enter  Caspar  Queen.] 
Fauntleroy. 

[Aside]     If  he 
Be  father  near,  I  must  be  farther  off! 
[Aloud]      I  say,  good  friend,  you're  just  in  proper 

time 
To  aid  in  burying  your  precious  charge. 

Caspar. 
Well  say  you  precious,  since  the  box,  my  boy. 
Contains,  or  holds  within  (which  is  the  same. 
The  meaning  being  in  no  wise  different). 
The  money  I  have  taken  from  my  gate 
These  more  than  three  long  years,  now  past  and 

gone. 
All  safely  funded  in  Confederate  Bonds, 
Or  Registered  Certificates,  which  is 
The  same  in  substance  and  in  meaning. 

Fauntleroy. 
Whate'er  the  meaning  be,  I  fear  the  substance 
Will  prove  to  be  a  very  shadow,  for 

18 


This  currency  on  which  is  based  your  Bond, 
Swells  so  in  volume  that  the  volume  checks 
The  currency. 

Caspar. 
What  would  you  beg?     Is  not  the  Nation's  faith 
So  pledged?     What!  what!  repudiate  a  debt, 
So  sacredly,  and  solemnly  contracted? 
No,  no !  the  public  faith  must  be  sustained ! 
The  national  honor  shall  be  protected, 
And  every  obligation  met  when  due ! 

Fauntleroy. 
But  who's  to  meet  it?  whence  shall  come  the  gold 
Wherewith  to  make  the  sacred  pledges  good? 

Caspar. 
Now  therein  lies  a  fundamental  error: 
We  need  no  gold — 

Fauntleroy. 
Well,  whence  the  silver,  then? 

Caspar. 
Nor  silver  either — 

You  see  you  do  not  understand  the  laws 
Of  currency,  and  interchange  of  values 
Political  economy  has  made 
A  butt  of  you:  burn  all  your  books;  come  back 
To  great  first  principles,  and  solve 
Me — what  is  money?     'Tis  a  value  mere, 
Or  measure,  which  is  much  the  same  import. 
Without  distinction  in  their  several  senses — 

Mima. 
A  truce,  good  gentleman,  or  Ijshall  lose 
My  several  senses  in  this  disputation. 
And  you,  meanwhile,  may  lose  your  treasure  here 
By  losing  time.     We  come  to  bury  money, 
Not  to  praise  it ! 

Caspar. 
Well  thought  of,  girl! 
Fall  to  it,  then,  friend  Fauntleroy,  and  when 
19 


You  next  may  have  a  month  or  more  to  spare, 
Come  visit  me,  and  I'll  explain  to  you 
The  laws  of  labor! 

Fauntleroy. 
Good,  I  will  hold  you  to  it. 

Caspar. 
And  sing  's  a  song,  Mima,  while  we  dig. 

[Caspar  and  Fauntleroy  dig  in    the  ground: 

Mima  sings.] 
Song. 
The  leaves  are  falling  to  the  ground. 

The  Southern  skies  grow  pale, 
The  lark  neglects  his  Summer  sound. 
The  thrush  forgets  his  tale — 
The  thrush  forgets  his  tale ! 

All  desolately  mute,  the  woods 

With  arms  outstretched  in  prayers, 

Remind  our  hearts  of  solitudes, 
As  vast,  as  calm  as  theirs — 
As  vast,  as  calm  as  theirs ! 

The  Westwind  made  the  polished  streams 

His  mirrors  where  he  glassed; 
Dark  Evening  dropt  her  crown  of  beams 

To  tempt  him  as  he  passed — 

To  tempt  him  as  he  passed ! 

But  now  he  blows — ah  me,  he  blows 

So  cold  this  wintry  West, 
That  we  would  fold,  like  yonder  wold. 

Our  bloom  about  our  breast — 

Our  bloom  about  our  breast ! 

For  now  he  blows — ah  me,  he  blows 

So  changed,  this  fickle  West, 
That  we  would  close,  like  yonder  rose. 

Our  bloom  about  our  breast — 

Our  bloom  about  our  breast! 
20 


Ccispar. 

It  is  a  melancholy  song, 
And  sung  much  like  her  dear,  departed  mother. 
Full  many  a  year  the  season's  sad  refrain 
Has  troubled  me  with  echoes  like  that  song! 
What  time  the  soughing  West  goes  o'er  the  Bay, 
And  makes  wild  music  in  the  sobbing  pines, 
And  bends  the  sedge  upon  the  russet  hills. 
And  shakes  the  hinges  of  my  oaken  gate. 
And  brines  with  mistings  of  the  salty  sea. 
The  ice-cold  air  about  my  cottage  door, 
Then  miss  I  most  my  dead  wife's  tender  mien. 
And  fiUed-up  sympathy  for  all  the  race. 
That  overleaped  the  bounds  of  all  degrees, 
And  made  the  whole  world  welcome  at  our  fire ! 
O !  she  was  gentle,  she  was  kind  and  good ! 
And  when  I  stood  beside  her  bed  of  death. 
She  gave  into  my  arms  this  girl,  a  babe 
With  cherub  smile,  and  angel  eyes  of  blue — 
A  lily  woven  in  the  very  cypress 
Of  my  grief:  I  took  the  tender  thing. 
And  pledged  her  all  a  father's  ceaseless  care ; 
Since  then,  as  a  perpetual  celibate, 
I've  kept  that  pledge,  dividing  not  my  love. 
But  lavishing  it  all  on  you,  my  child — 
My  Mima !  idol  of  my  heart ! 
Mima. 
My  Father!  what  a  world  of  tenderness 
Lies  in  the  compass  of  your  dear,  old  breast ! 
How  can  my  life  repay  the  debt  I  owe 
Of  gratitude,  and  piety  to  you ! 
Bless  these  dear,  old,  gray  hairs — and  fond  old 
speech. 

[Embraces  him.] 
Fauntleroy. 
[Aside]      A  scene  like  this  I  feel  would  be  pro- 
faned 

21 


By  stranger  eyes,  or  ears,  unless  my  own ! 

But  O!  fond  heart,  with  what  dehcious  throb, 

You  grasp  the  future  with  anticipation, 

When  licensed  by  the  dearest  title  known. 

And  ceremony  sacredly  confirmed, 

I  shall  support  this  old  man's  steps,  and  pillow 

All  of  the  daughter's  trials  on  this  breast ! 

But  from  this  reverie  I  must  recall  them — 

There's  danger  in  our  lingering  here  too  long; 

I'll  speak  to  them: 

[Aloud]     Caspar!  the  day  is  waning, 

And  having  been  thus  far  so  favored  in 

No  accident  befell  our  journey  here — 

No  interruption  marred  your  treasure's  burial — 

'Tis  tempting  Providence  to  linger  here — 

Let's  note  the  grave  where  we  have  placed  your 

box. 
And  hasten  away;  yonder  lies  a  stone 
Which  we  may  roll  upon  the  spot,  whereby 
To  mark  it;  give  's  a  hand,  friend  Caspar! 

[They  roll  the  stone  from  above  Fairfax's  BoXy 
over  that  of  Caspar.] 

Mima. 
Rest  quiet  Box,  while  yet  in  peace  you  may, 
Nor  see  the  light,  till  War  has  cleared  away; 
Then  from  your  tomb,  encasing  with  such  care, 
Rise  up  when  bid,  and  front  the  open  air! 
With  Rosicrusian  art,  or  Alchem'  old 
Turn  every  thing  that  you  have  touched  to  gold ! 

Caspar. 
Nay,  Heaven  forbid !     But  Bond  for  Bond  unfold! 
For  better  or  for  worse,  let  come  what  will. 
In  peace  or  war,  through  good  report  or  ill, 
Tay  me  my  Bonds' !  be  my  religion  still ! 

[Exeunt  together.] 


Scene  IV 

Bar-room  in  the  *' Refuge  Hoitse,**  at  Smith's 
Point, 

Present:  Landlord;  Caspar  Queen,  Uncle  Jesse; 
Sergeant  Johnson,  watching  the  others;  neighbors^ 
white  and  colored. 

Caspar  Queen. 
You  will  observe  there  is  a  wide  distinction  be- 
tween simple  convertible  Bonds,  and  the  intro- 
convertible  Bond,  and  the  Bond  inter  convertible. 
Your  Bond  simply  convertible  is  your  ordinary 
eight  per  cent  Confederate  Bond;  your  intro- 
convertible  Bond  is  exchangeable  for  one  thing 
only,  as  your  short-date  Confederate  Bond,  which 
is  payable  April  9,  1865;  while  your  inter  conver- 
tible Bond  may  be  exchanged  for  two  or  more,  or 
(what  is  the  same  thing j,  several  denominations 
or  commodities :  thus  your  ten  per  cent 
Confederate  Bond  is  payable  in  the  year  1900, 
either  in  Cotton,  Gold,  or  Silver,  when  presented 
in  London,  Boston,  Pekin,  or  Richmond,  as  the 
holder  may  elect:  its  chief  value  consists  in  the 
fact  that  it  is  based  not  upon  gold,  but  upon  the 
credit  of  the  Nation.  Now,  Jesse,  I  owe  you 
$1,000  for  two  days'  work  in  my  garden:  now 
what  sort  of  a  Bond  do  you  prefer — the  convertible 
Bond,  the  intro  convertible  Bond,  or  the  Bond 
inter  convertible.? 


Well,  Sah,  you  give  dis  ole  man  a  good  squah 
meal's  vittles,  and  I  let  you  off  wid  dat  thousan' 
doUahs;  for  to  tell  you  de  trufe,  I  ain't  much  of  a 
23 


Bondsman;  I  believes  In  de  incontrovertible  bon' 
of  peace,  in  de  unity  of  de  sperrit;  and  dat's  de 
bon'  de  people  of  dis  country  wants,  which  dey 
kyant  git  it! 

Cas'par. 
Jess,  do  you  call  such  barbarous  views  as  those, 
Finance ! 


No  Sah;  I  don't  call  dem  nobody's  fine  aunts; 
but  I  calls  'em  fust  cousins  to  de  trufe,  do'. 
Caspar. 
Why,  Jess,  I'm  ashamed  of  you!     What  did  the 
preacher  say  last  night  about  answering  a  fool 
according  to  his  folly? 

Jesse. 
Why,  Sah,  he  say,  *  almost  and  altogether  'cept 
dese  bon's',  and  now  you  gwine  straight  back  into 
bondage  agin! 

Caspar. 
Jesse!     Jesse!  silence  these  perversions!     Did 
not  the  minister  maintain  that  every  man  should 
treat  his  fellow-man — 

Jesse. 
Dat's  it!  he  conten'  every  man  got  to  stan  treat! 
[Enter  the  two  'Longshoremen,  tipsy.] 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
That's  so,  old  nigger — we've  all  got  to  stand 
treat !    Set  out  your  bottle ! 


K  you  call  me  nigger,  I'll  sue  you  for  reforma- 
tion of  my  corkter. 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
Blow  your  character — ^you've  got  to  treat  or  be 
treated:  how  much  money  have  you  got? 

[Winks  at  Caspar.] 
Caspar. 
Don't  care  if  I  do — ^just  a  drop ! 
24 


Jesse  [pulling  out  a  roll  of  Confederate  notes.] 
Ain't  got  over  a  thousan'  doUahs — 'pon  my 
word  I  ain't  got  it. 

1st  ^Longshoreman. 
Come,  landlord!  applejack  here  for  the  party. 
You  yonder  in  the  corner,  take  a  drop  of  some- 
think.? 

[To  Randal.] 
Randal. 
[Aside]       These     drunken    knaves    are    dis- 
agreeable to  me — not  that  they  will  ever  recognize 
me,  but  their  sight  annoys  me.  [Aloud.]  Certainly, 
my  friend,  I'll  be  sociable. 

2d  'Longshoreman. 
Good  for  the  soul.  Sir — good  for  the  soul — 
nothink  like  it.     Do  try  somethink ! 
[Enter  Ralph  Simpson.] 
Ralph. 
Certainly   I  will.  Refuse.?^     Not  at  all!     The 
best  of  health. 

Landlord  [calling  from  the  window.] 
John,  run  out  to  the  stillhouse  and  draw  another 
bucket   of  that  ere   brandy — quick!     Strain  it? 
Why    certainly — do    you    think    the    gentlemen 
wants  mash? 

[They  drink.] 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
How  much.  Landlord? 

Landlord, 
Let's   see — eight   of  you?    Jept  two  hundred 
dollars,  Sir. 

Randal. 
[Aside]      He  has  come  at   last — the  man   I'm 
looking  for:  he  fills  the  bill,  and  must  be  a  scoun- 
drel; I  will  board  him. 

[Taps  Ralph  on  the  shoulder.] 
I  say,  a  word  with  you? 

25 


[They  talk  apart  while  the  remainder   talk  in 

a  tipsy  manner.] 
Your  name  is? 

Ralph. 
Certainly — I  was  christened  that  when  I  was 
an  infant  for  the  first  time.     And  your  name  is? 
Randal. 
Johnson;  Sergeant  Johnson  of  the  23d  North 
CaroHna.     You  are  only  stopping  in  this  neigh- 
borhood a  short  time? 

Ralph. 
Now  really,  I'm  sorry;  should  like  you  to  remain 
longer;  your  regiment  is  under  orders  perhaps ? 
Randal. 
You  have  been  recommended  to  me  as  a  man 
who  would  be  likely  to  want  a  job — 
Ralph. 
Yaas — something  in  the  line  of  agriculture — 
plowing,  hoeing  corn — country  job,  you  know! 
Randal. 
Come,  no  nonsense,  my  friend;  I  am  no  detec- 
tive, nor  any  thing  of  the  kind.     I  mean  plain 
business.     I  have  a  job,  and  will  pay  you  in  gold. 
Ralph. 
Something  ugly,  I  guess. 

Randal. 
Not   at   all:   only   requires   strength,   and   no 
blabbing,  and  running  the  blockade;  these  'Long- 
shoremen will  take  us  out,  and  I  will    arrange 
with  them ;  now  all  I  want  of  you  is  that  you  meet 
me  at  a  certain  point  at  nightfall,  and  assist  me 
in  getting  a  box  to  the  boat. 
Ralph. 
Dead  men  in  it,  may  be? 

Randal. 
No;  but  even  if  there  should  be,  that's  my  look- 
out.    I  pay  ten  dollars  in  gold  for  helping  me  to 
26 


the  boat;  if  you're  for  the  job,  say  so;  if  not,  I  will 
get  some  one  else. 

Ralph. 
Make  it  twenty? 

Randal. 
Too  much:  ten  is  exorbitant,  but  rather  than 
dicker,  I'll  make  it  fifteen — in  gold,  to  be  paid 
when  we  reach  the  Islands. 
Ralph. 
All  right:  come  what  will,  I  am  your  man.     I'm 
on  the  make,  and  I  can't  see  any  reason  for  you  to 
play  off  on  me:  so  name  your  place,  and  hour,  and 
I'm  for  the  business.     [Aside]     The  biter  bit,  or 
I'm  mistaken.     We  shall  see  what  comes  of  it. 
Randal. 
Do  you  know  where  the  old  Ruin  stands  on  the 
Bay,  about  two  miles  below  here? 
Ralph. 
Know  it?     Like  a  book:  beyond  the  high  Bluff. 

Randal. 
Meet  me  tomorrow  night  at    seven — say    one 
hundred  yards  south  of  the  Ruin,  near  the  Bluff, 
and  right  in  the  path. 

[Enter  Master  Bain,  tipsy.] 

Bain. 
Landlord !  why  don't  you  take  your  lamp-posts 
in  at  night?  Gentlemen  are  liable  to  run  against 
them,  as  I  did.  Do  you  see  that  nose?  Quick 
now,  applejack  for  the  company — (hard  set  they 
are,  too) .  Come  up,  one  and  all,  and  taste  etherial 
nectar,  by  Pomona  fresh  distilled  from  the  for- 
bidden fruit. 

[They  drink.] 
Randal. 
[Aside]     I  must  pump  this  young  sprig — green 
as  grass,  I  warrant  him.     [Aloud]     I  say,  Master, 
27 


any  news  with  the  Corps? 
Bain. 

And  what  are  you?     Whatever  your  rank,  what- 
e*er  your  name,  your  friendship  from  this  hour  I 
claim !     A  sergeant :  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  or  Corporal 
Trim?     *  Do  Trim,'  said  my  Uncle  Toby ! 
Randal. 

We  are  officers;  let  us  talk  apart  from  this  noisy 
rabble. 

Bain. 

Why  yes,  damn  'em,  we're  officers;  and  I'm  a 
gentleman.  Sir:  a  gentleman -born -of -Signal-Corps; 
a  Signal-gentleman,  born-of-Corps,  Sir.  You're  an 
officer,  sir,  and  I  love  you.  [Embraces  him,  dur- 
ing which  Randal  manages  to  extract  from  his  pocket 
an  official  envelope  with  enclosure.]  When  I  drink 
with  a  gentleman,  sir,  our  official  feelings  flow 
together,  sir,  just  as  ice  floats  down  the  stream, 
when  detached  from  its  place  of  congelation  by  a 
gentle  thaw!  But  come,  let's  drink.  I  say  you. 
Landlord!  more  brandy  here  for  the  company! 

[Bain  goes  to  the  bar.] 
Randal. 
[Aside]     A  pretty  officer!  how  many  more 
Like  him,  I  pray  them,  ornament  the  service? 
Now  while  the  brandied  knaves  are  drinking, 
I'll  to  this  window  here,  and  in  its  shadow 
And  by  the  outside  lamp's  reflected  light, 
Peruse  this  fool's  commission. 

[Reads;  the  others  drink.] 

Aha !  the  very  ground  grows  tremulous 
Beneath  me !     Matthews  hither  comes — for  what? 
*  To  meet  Lamoir*  (his  cousin)  'with  dispatches 
Fresh  from  the  East,  sent  through  the  Secret  Bureau.* 
Not  meeting  him,  he'll  seek  the  Signal  Corps — 
(O !  that  their  meeting  could  be  brought  about !) 
28 


The  Corps  willfseek  and[find[those  'Longshoremen 

And  they'll  seek  me;  Ha!  I  must  baffle  them: 

I'll  see  this  Matthews  first,  and  muddle  him; 

*Ifs  to  he  given  out  we've  come  to  stop 

Blockade-running;  and  you  must  find  for  us 

One  Clarence  Fauntleroyf 

I  see  it  all :  this  Fauntleroy  I've  heard  of — 

He  courts,  'tis  said,  the  ToUgate's  daughter: 

I'll  compliment  him  with  my  last  achievement 

(Which  was  to  knock  upon  the  sconce  his  partner), 

And  while  he  wrestles  with  its  modest  weight, 

I'll  carry  off  the  golden  argosy 

For  which  it  was  so  dubiously  performed. 

The  girl  I  must  give  up;  not  willingly. 

But  there's  no  other  course;  poor  thing, 

I  hope  she'll  marry  well — 

[Aloud]     I  say,  mine  host!  fight  me  to  bed  anon; 

And  to  avoid  this  good  society, 

And  save  the  pain  of  parting  company, 

I'll  make  my  exit  thus — 

[Exit  from  the  window;  host  withdraws   the  light, 

closing  the  scene  upon  the  other Sy  engaged  in  a 

general  embrace,] 


29 


ACT  II 

Scene  I 

Room  in  the  Tollhouse, 

[Randal  discovered  disguised  as  Rev.  Felix  Moss, 
looking  in  a  mirror.] 

Randal. 
This  garb  becomes  me  well ;  the  white  cravat 
My  native  olive  gives  a  richer  hue; 
Those  eyes  have  never  failed  me,  when  afloat 
I  boarded  one  of  nature's  weaker  craft, 
And  made  to  seaward  with  my  lawful  prize. 
Poor  things !  what  were  this  barren  world  without 

them! 
I  hold  them  putty  in  the  glazier's  hands. 
Which  when  well  kneaded  mends  a  pane;  or  wine 
When  once  the  seal  is  broken,  must  be  drank; 
We  drink  the  sweet  intoxicating  draft. 
Then  leave  the  empty  flagon  to  its  fate. 
But  here  she  comes;  where  is  my  pocket-bible; 
I'll  to  my  text: 

[He  reads;  enter  Mima.] 
*These  things  command  I  you. 
That  ye  love  one  another.' 

Mima. 
[Aside]     O,  fiddlestick!  a  preacher;  well,  I  hope 
He  is  a  godly  one;  I  love  that  kind. 
30 


Randal. 
My  thoughts  had  turned  to  holy  contemplation. 
And  in  the  sacred  book  of  life  I  grew 
Abstractedly  intent;  but  you  arouse  me. 
My  heavenly  dream  more  heavenly  made  by  you; 
The  lives  of  our  poor  soldiers,  are  they  dear? 
But  O !  how  far  more  precious  are  the  souls 
Of  those  in  camp,  in  field,  and  hospital ! 
Reflecting  on  this  subject,  I  grew  sad. 
Until  the  voice  of  God  came  through  the  clouds. 
And  bid  me  forth,  and  to  the  sacred  harvest. 
Fair  lady,  beautiful  as  God  has  made  you. 
Perhaps  you  are  indifferent,  and  have 
A  conscience  unawakened? 
If  so,  let  me  but  pray  for  you — 
That,  like  the  statue  which  the  ancient  chiselled. 
Then  by  adoring  warmed  to  actual  life, 
I  may  instruct,  then  by  the  power  of  worship, 
Convert  from  marble  infidelity, 
To  all  the  fervor  of  intense  belief! 

Mima. 
Why  you  should  take  me  for  an  infidel, 
I*m  sure  I  cannot  tell,  but  blush  to  think 
There's  aught  about  me  warrants  the  indictment. 
To  being  giddy,  thoughtless,  hoydenish, 
I  may  plead  guilty;  but  for  aught  irreverent, 
I  trust  the  trial  of  my  worst  accuser 
Would  verdict  my  acquittal. 
Randal. 
I  knew  it,  or  believed  it,  from  your  face. 
So  fair,  so  frank,  so  chaste,  so  true,  and  thought- 
ful, 
That  you  would  aid  by  any  means  you  can. 
Our  soldiers  on  the  field  of  tent  and  battle. 
By  bibles,  books  of  sweet  religious  scope. 
As  tracts,  or  sermons,  hymns  contributed. 
But  over  all  by  your  most  fervent  prayers, 
31 


For  those  to  whom  my  work  is  dedicated. 
May  I  not  count  you  on  my  staff  of  aids, 
And  adjutants  enlisted? 

Mima. 
Most  reverend  Sir,  you  may, 
To  the  extent  of  all  I  can  assist  you. 

Randal. 
Give  me  your  hand  then,  on  that  holy  vow. 
How  fair  a  hand  to  pledge  so  fair  a  promise ! 

[Enter  Caspar  Queen.] 

Caspar. 
Good  morning,  reverend  Sir!  you  are  quite  wel- 
come; 
An  acquaintance  of  Mima,  I  perceive. 
Immersionist  I  hope?     Next  to  the  doctrine 
Enjoining  payment  of  Confederate  Debt, 
I  hold  baptism  by  complete  submersion 
The  cardinal  feature  in  religious  faith. 
What  think  you  of  Confederate  Bonds? 

Randal. 
I  think  them.  Sir,  securities  for  debt. 
That  he  who  owns  should  look  to;  and  in  fact. 
Your  views  about  them  are  my  views  entirely — 
And  how  could  I  more  fully  state  the  pith 
Of  what  is  most  profound  upon  this  subject. 
Than  by  invoking  your  far  deeper  knowledge? 

Caspar. 
[Aside]     The  finest  preacher  of   his  age,  I'll  war- 
rant! 
[Alovd]     My  views  are  borrowed  from  the  foun- 
tain source 
Of  all  financial  art — immortal  Jones ! 
Jones  does  not  talk,  himself,  but  to  the  few, 
And  we,  disciple-like,  interpret  him. 
And  make  translations  for  the  multitude. 
As  priests  of  old,  dumb  oracles  gave  forth, 
Or  Plato  rendered  Socrates. 
32 


Randal. 
Jones!     Jones!     O,  thrice  immortal  Jones! 
How  have  I  longed  to  see  and  hear  thee,  Jones ! 
To  thy  financial  pool  I  fain  would  rush. 
As  if  to  quench  a  never-dying  thirst — 

Caspar. 
[Aside]  Tully !  Huzza !  Quasi  sitim  explere  ceternam! 

Randal. 
Great  Alchemist!  whose  genius  sublime 
Can  turn  to  gold — ^nay  more  than  finest  gold — 
A  mountain  heap  of  unsubstantial  trash ! 
Wise  benefactor!  whose  unequalled  skill 
Can  render  unto  Caesar  not  his  own 
Alone,  but  much  of  other  men's,  and  God's ! 
Can  wring  from  vulgar  toil  the  tribute  due 
To  power,  and  wealth,  and  noble  speculation! 
Let  me  but  see  thee,  Jones,  and  I  die  happy. 
Whatever  Providence  o'ertake  me  after. 

Caspar. 
[Aside]     Was  ever  seen  such  noble  aspiration! 
[Ahtid]     My  dear  and  reverend  sir,  give  us  your 

hand! 
You  shall  be  gratified :  Jones  you  shall  see : 
He  dines,  at  two  o'clock  today,  with  me. 
[Enter  Fauntleroy.] 

Fauntleroy. 
[Aside]     Why  what  means  this!  a  preacher  hold- 
ing palms 
For  Mima,  and  her  father  too — one  each? 
The  devil's  a  gentleman,  but  I  will  look 
To  this! 

[Aloud]     Ahem!  your  pardons,  worthy  friends; 
I  do  intrude,  and  will  retire  apace. 
Till  more  convenient  season  shall  occur. 
Your  special  grace.  Miss  Mima,  for  th'  intrusion. 
33 


Mima, 
So  far  from  being  an  intruder,  Clarence, 
Your  visit  is  appropriately  timed : 
This  is  our  guest,  the  Reverend  Felix  Moss : 
My  friend,  and  father's,  Clarence  Fauntleroy. 

Fauntleroy. 
[Aside]     Avaunt  his  reverence :  I  do  not  like  it. 
[Alotd]     Your  pardon.  Sir,  but  do  I  interrupt  you  ? 
Not  ev'n  the  pleasure  of  your  new  acquaintance 
Would  compensate  the  pain  of  interruption. 

Randal. 
[Aside]     Aha!  a  jealous  tone  about  the  rascal! 
[Alotid]     Eh,  Fauntleroy .f^  and  did  I  hear  aright? 
I  make  with  pleasure  your  acquaintance.  Sir. 

Caspar. 
O,  Clarence,  this  gentleman's  a  financier, 
And   of    the    modern    school   which   Jones   has 

fathered : 
You  must  shake  hands  with  this,  a  new  disciple — 
A  prodigy  of  eloquence  and  learning : 
He  wishes  the  acquaintance  of  the  founder 
Of  our  new  Poorhouse  Labor  Union  Club, 
And  I  have  bid  him  dine  with  us  at  two. 
Now  wUl  you  not  engage  to  join  the  party? 

Mima. 
Come,  Clarence,  join  these  gentle-folk  at  dinner. 

Fauntleroy. 
Amid  a  company  so  well  selected, 
I  fear  my  welcome,  although  hitherto 
Always  assured  beneath  this  cottage  roof, 
Would  be  at  fault:  pray  do  not  strain  politeness 
By  asking  me. 

Randal. 
Come,  Sir,  your  promise  here  to  meet  us. 
And  I  shall  rest  content,  and  say  farewell 
Until  our  meeting:  for  I  have  other  work 
On  hand. 

34 


Fauntleroy. 
Then  be  it  as  you  say:  at  two,  to  dinner. 

Randal. 
Good!  and  until  then,  sweet  friends,  adieu; 
For  I  must  be  about  my  holy  work. 
[Aside]     Aha!  but  I  shall  use  the  time  till  two, 
To  make  this  knave's  digestion  overdue! 

[Exit  Randal] 

Caspar. 
O !  what  a  treat  in  store  for  me — 
Such  auditory  for  my  views  on  Money! 
And  Caleb  Jones  to  nod  his  wise  approval ! 
Excuse  me,  Clarence,  I  must  go  and  write 
The  heads  of  our  symposium. 

[Exit  Caspar.] 

Mima. 
You  seem  quite  distant,  Clarence — 
Has  anything  occurred  to  mar  your  pleasure? 

Fauntleroy. 
Who  is  this  so-called  missionary  .^^ 
You've  known  him,  I  suppose,  from  infancy; 
'Tis  sure  he  cannot  be  a  new  acquaintance : 
His  manner  toward  you  warranted  a  friendship 
Of  many  years :  how  strange  I  never  heard 
You  speak  of  him. 

Mima, 
I  never  saw  him  till  today. 

Fauntleroy. 
Impossible!     And  is  it  thus,  with  hands 
Conjoined,  you  welcome  strolling  vagabonds. 
Of  whom  you  nothing  know  of  history 
Or  motives? 

Mima. 
For  shame  to  thus  abuse  your  better  nature 
Through  jealousy!     Dear  Clarence,  be  yourself. 
In  reason,  justice,  common  sense.     You  will 
Allow  that  whom  my  father  welcomed  here, 
35 


I  was  in  duty  bound  to  entertain. 

Besides,  he  is  a  minister  engaged 

In  working  charity  amidst  the  camps. 

Now  clear  away  those  frowns,  which  on  your  brow 

Like  alien  snowbirds  in  a  Summer  day. 

With  a  forlorn  and  foreign  aspect,  sit. 

Fauntleroy. 
Ah,  well!  how  fair  in  woman  is  sweet  temper! 
It  is  the  Orphean  music  which  enchains 
That  philanthropic  savage  known  as — man ! 
I  was  too  hasty;  but  I  did  not  like 
The  sanctimonious  face  of  your  new  friend : 
He  looks  too  good,  by  far,  for  human  nature. 

Mima. 
No  more  of  him.     You'll  come  and  dine  at  two.f* 

Fauntleroy. 
I'll  come! 

So  until  then,  adieu,  for  I  must  haste 
About  affairs  which  needs  will  occupy  me 
Until  the  hour.     Goodbye  Sweetheart. 

[  They  embrace.     Exit  Clarence.     Scene  closes.] 


Scene  II 

Outer  room  in  the  Tollhouse 
Caspar  Queen  smoking:  enter  Fauntleroy. 

Caspar. 
Welcome !  welcome  most  heartily.  I  know  what 
you  have  come  for,  and  I  was  just  thinking  about 
you.  You  came  to  hear  my  views  on  Labor,  and 
Confederate  currency.  Now,  frankly,  have  I  not 
guessed  your  errandr 

Fauntleroy. 
Indeed  you  have  displayed  your  usual  penetra- 
tion.    I  came  to  dine  with  you,  by  invitation. 
36 


Caspar. 
I  knew  it — I  knew  it!     And  now,  before  we  set 
in,  have  you  anything  to  do?     Because,  in  order 
to  understand  the  question  of  Labor,  it  is  necessary 
a  man  shall  give  up  all  employment,  or  occupation, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  there  being  no  difference — 
Fauntleroy. 
I  am  as  idle,  sir,  as  a  tramp  or  vagabond,  with 
positively  nothing  on  my  mind — after  I  shall  have 
delivered  this  package  to  your  daughter. 
Caspar. 
She  is  within — I  will  call  her. 
Fauntleroy. 
Excuse  me,  Sir,  I  will  save  you  trouble  by  just 
stepping  in  where  she  sits.     I  will  return  in  a 
moment. 

[Exit  Fauntleroy,] 
Caspar. 
Strange  how  exercised  that  boy  is  about  my 
views  on  these  great  questions :  not  a  day  but  he 
is  here!  But  I  must  relieve  him  from  my  daugh- 
ter's endless  curiosity  about  his  adventures,  run- 
ning the  blockade — his  new  wares — the  fashions, 
and  what  not. 

[Calls,] 
Clabence ! 

Fauntleroy. 
Presently,  sir,  presently! 

Caspar. 
Poor  boy !  every  opportunity  he  runs  over  here 
to  hear  me  expound  the  Finances.  And  if  Mima 
chance  at  any  time  to  pass  near  the  Ruin  where  he 
sells  his  blockade  wares,  forthwith  he  shall  seize 
upon  that  excuse  to  accompany  her  home,  just 
that  he  may  spend  an  hour  or  so  under  my  dis- 
sertations. But  she  is  torturing  him  by  the  de- 
tention. [Calls.] 
37 


Fauntleroy! 

Fauntleroy  [from  within.] 

In  a  moment,  Sir! 

Caspar. 

And  what  a  treat  I  have  in  store  for  him! 
Caleb  Jones  has  promised  to  come  over  to  dine, 
and  Clarence  shall  see  him,  the  great  master  of 
the  Finances.  But  he  is  losing  valuable  time  by 
that  girl's  nonsense  about  the  outside  world — the 
breeze  of  fashion  and  the  gale  of  folly:  I  say, 
Fauntleroy ! 

Fauntleroy  [from  within.] 

In  a  trice,  now,  Sir ! 

Caspar. 

I  verily  believe  that  boy  will  go  distracted,  if 
that  foolish  girl  do  not  release  him.  She  has 
a  great  curiosity  to  question  him  about  his  man- 
oeuvres and  devices  to  avoid  capture,  and  hair- 
breadth escapes  upon  the  Bay — the  boy,  mean- 
while, impatient  to  hear  me.     I  say,  now — Clar- 


ence 


Fauntleroy, 
I  am  coming  now.  Sir. 

[Enter  Clarence  and  Mima.] 
Mima. 
O,  gracious,  Father,  you  will  not  give  Clarence 
time  to  exchange  a  word  with  me,  when  he  has 
oceans  to  tell ! 

Caspar. 
Pooh,  pooh,  my  child,  why  will  you  detain  him, 
when  he  has  come  on  purpose  to  hear  me  on  the 
Finances.'^  You  see,  my  boy — (Mima  let's  have 
dinner  as  soon  as  you  can,  I  am  expecting  Caleb 
Jones  over  to  dine  with  us) .  You  see,  Clarence — 
(Mima,  sweeten  a  little  of  that  fresh  apple-brandy; 
I  care  not  for  it,  but  Jones  is  fond  of  it.)  You 
understand,  Clarence — (Mima,  cook  three  or  four 

38 


.beans;  in  fact,  cook  all  the  beans  we  have,  even  if 
it  is  a  half  dozen;  Jones  is  particularly  fond  of 
beans,  besides  being  hard  of  hearing).* 

[Exit  Mima.] 

To  come  to  the  point,  my  friend,  there  is  no 
necessary  relation  between  Labor  and  Work, 
although  many  are  under  that  popular  delusion. 
Point  of  fact,  one  of  the  oaths  of  our  Labor- Union 
Club  is,  that  the  applicant  has  not  done  a  stroke 
of  work  for  six  months !  Do  you  see? 
Fauntleroy. 

Is't  possible!     You  surprise  me.  Sir! 
Caspar. 

Surprise  you!  Listen  again :  You  no  doubt  sup- 
pose a  man  of  wealth  has  necessarily  been  a  worker 
but  no  such  thing;  whenever  did  you  see  a  rich 
working-man  .5^  Such  man  is  synonymous  with  a 
poor  man,  whereas  your  *man  of  leisure,'  is  he  not 
your  rich  man  the  world  over? 
Fauntleroy. 

I  see:  your  industrious  man  is  your  poor  man, 
while  your  idle  man  becomes  rich! 
Caspar. 

Precisely  so!  And  still  another  fundamental 
error  that  you  have  got  to  banish,  is  the  idea  that 
your  needy  man  is  necessarily  poor;  to  the  con- 
trary. Sir,  I  shall  today  show  you  the  neediest 
man  in  Virginia,  who  at  the  same  time  is  perhaps 
the  richest;  and  this  is  no  other  than  my  friend 
Caleb  Jones,  the  President  of  our  Labor-Union 
Club.  Why,  Clarence,  that  man  is  a  Financial 
phenomenon — an  Anti-bullion  giant,  Sir — an  up- 
and-down  millionaire!  He  has  sold  all  of  his 
visible  effects,  and  has  buried  in  the  ground,  hid 
away  from  sight,  a  round  million  dollars — none 
of  your  gold  and  silver  trash,  but  solid  Confeder- 
KvafWTp(i)i  Kai  'wroKwpov — Aristop. 
39 


ate  Notes  and  Bonds:  and  yet  Sir,  where  do  you 
think  that  man  has  retired  to? 
Fauntleroy. 

Why,  I  suppose  to  some  very  private  and  se- 
cluded palace  of  his  own,  embowered  in  extensive 
parks,  where  he  regales  himself  daily  on  rich  viands 
and  costly  wines? 

Caspar, 

Not  at  all!  He  lives  at  the  Poorhouse,  and 
walks  his  four  miles  daily  to  beg  a  drink  of  apple- 
brandy fresh  from  the  still.  So  you  see  there  is 
wide  distinction  between  your  needy  man  and 
your  poor  man.  Take  the  first  man,  Adam,  for 
example :  he  did  not  have  a  shirt  to  's  back :  never 
saw  a  bill  of  exchange :  never  handled  a  Confeder- 
ate note:  as  poor  as  poverty  itself;  and  yet  he 
needed  nothing !  whereas,  here  is  Caleb,  poor  fellow, 
with  a  cool  million  of  the  highest  pledges  of  Nation- 
al honor — money  in  its  true  sense — money  based 
on  the  credit  of  the  whole  nation;  and  yet  he  can- 
not command  a  meal  outside  of  the  Poorhouse! 
Fauntleroy. 

I  should  never  have  dreamed  of  his  immense 
wealth!  But  I  wonder  whether  there  never 
crosses  his  mind  a  cruel  suspicion  that  his  buried 
Notes  may,  after  all,  turn  out  to  be  no  more  worth 
than  the  very  indifferent  paper  on  which  they 
are  printed? 

Caspar, 

Notes?  Did  I  say  Notes?  I  tell  you,  Sir, 
they  are  Bonds — Confederate  Bonds,  bearing 
eight  per  cent  interest,  and  doubling  themselves 
every  twelve  years ! 

Fauntleroy. 

I  see:  his  wealth,  like  yours,  consists  in  Con- 
federate Bonds.     But  do  you  not  think  there  is 
just  the  remotest  possibility  that  even  these  Bonds 
40 


may  eventually  become  of  such  vast  and  accumu- 
lated amount  as  to  be  past  redemption? 
Caspar. 

Not  at  all,  my  dear  boy,  not  at  all!  On  the 
contrary — au  contraire — Caleb  and  I  have  gone 
over  all  that  ground,  and  we  have  worked  out 
the  problem  to  our  entire  satisfaction,  and  proved 
that  the  more  bonds  that  are  issued,  the  richer 
we  shall  be:  because  one  object  of  our  Financial 
debates  is  to  form  the  nucleus  of  an  organization 
to  make  all  the  Bonds  redeemable  in  other  Bonds, 
which  latter  are  to  be  interchangeable  with  Con- 
federate notes,  and  these  last  are  then  to  be  made 
interconvertible  with  still  other  Bonds;  and  thus 
the  whole  rotary  scheme  of  interchangeability  and 
interconvertibility  is  to  be  the  best  financial  sys- 
tem the  world  has  ever  seen,  and  every  man  is 
to  have  just  as  much  money  as  he  wants! 
Fauntleroy. 

And  Jones,  you  say,  is  the  author  of  all  this? 
Why  what  a  rich  mendicant  he  needs  must  be! 
Caspar. 

Oh,  the  richest  poor  fellow !     But  you  shall  hear 
him — you  shall  go  with  me  to  the  Poorhouse, 
when  next  we  hold  our  Financial  Debate. 
Fauntleroy. 

I  shall   be  too   happy!     But  one   thing   more: 
suppose   you   should   fail   in    establishing    your 
rotary  system  of  Finance,  what  then? 
Caspar. 

Then,  Sir,  and  in  that  event,  we  have  another 
project  equally  just  and  equitable:  as  follows:  at 
present  we  have  converted  every  thing  we  had 
into  National  securities  at  the  rate  of  ten  dollars 
in  gold  for  one  thousand  dollars  in  Confederate 
Bonds:  now,  as  soon  as  the  war  is  over,  we  will 
have  an  act  of  Congress  passed  to  strengthen  the 
41 


National  credit,  and  declare  the  value  of  the 
National  Bonds,  which  shall  make  them  legal 
tender  in  payment  of  all  debts:  then  shall  follow 
an  act  to  amend  an  act  entitled  an  act  to  declare 
the  value  of  the  National  Bonds,  whereby  they 
shall  be  made  payable  in  silver;  then  follows  an 
act  to  supplement  an  act  entitled  an  act  to  amend 
an  act  to  declare  the  value  of  the  National  or 
Confederate  Bonds,  whereby  they  shall  be  payable 
in  gold ;  finally  an  act  to  construe  an  act  entitled  an 
act  to  supplement  an  act  entitled  an  act  to  amend 
an  act  to  declare  the  value  of  the  National  Bonds, 
whereby  they  shall  be  made  payable  in  BraziHan 
diamonds,  worth  double  gold,  ounce  for  ounce! 
Thus  you  see,  as  Jones  puts  it,  by  the  simple  wand 
of  patriotic  legislation,  we  Bankers  and  Financiers 
shall  realize  milhons,  and  live  on  the  fat  of  the 
land! 

Fauntleroy. 

But  will  the  people  submit  to  this  legislation,  so 
ruinous  to  their  interests? 
Caspar. 

Submit?  ha!  ha!  Why  Sir,  it  shall  be  disloyal 
even  to  murmur  against  it!  But  here  comes  the 
great  Financier  himself. 

[Enter  Caleb  Jones.] 
Fauntleroy. 

[Aside]  Since  the  world  was  young,  was  ever 
such  a  tatterdemalion  seen  before !  a  very  corporal 
for  Falstaff's  company,  to  companion  Mouldy, 
Wart,  and  BuUcalf!  A  composite  of  oddities — 
walking  anachronism — with  a  coat  of  '76,  boots  of 
1812,  and  a  paper  collar  of  yesterday!  Heaven 
grant  me  a  sober  mask  in  this  bacchanalia  of 
tattered  elements ! 

Caspar. 

This  hour  is  one  of  the  happiest  of  my   life, 
42 


since  it  enables  me  to  introduce  to  the  inquiring 
mind  of  youth,  a  great  Financial  Expositor. 
Allow  me,  Jones:  my  young  friend,  Clarence 
Fauntleroy. 

Caleb  Jones, 
It  affords  me.  Sir,  unusual  pleasure  to  make  his 
acquaintance. 

Fauntleroy. 
It  is  reciprocal.  [Enter  Jesse.] 

Uncle  Jess. 
De  Lord   bless  you,  Mast'  Caspar,    'sense  me 
Sah,  but  a  whole  rattalion  of  soldiers  comin'  here 
— and  dey's  aft'  Mast'  Clarence  dar,  for  I  hear 
'em  say  so.     Dey  is  indeed! 

[Enter  Mima.] 
Mima. 
Father,   Uncle  Jess  is  right.     Clarence,   their 
coming  bodes  you  no  good,  I  feel  sure  of  it.     Make 
your  escape  ere  it  prove  too  late! 
Fauntleroy. 
I  care  not  for  them.     I  am  a  blockade-runner 
it  is  true,  but  loyal  to  the  Confederacy,  and  have 
done  her  some  service. 

Caleb. 
Take  my  advice :  put  your  goods  and  wares  in  a 
safe  place  first;  then,  if  necessary,  surrender. 
Caspar. 
Always  to  the  point :  take  his  advice,  or  admoni- 
tion, which  is  the  same  thing,  there  being  no  differ- 
ence in  the  meaning! 

Fauntleroy. 
I  will:  whither  shall   I  escape?     They  are   at 
the  door,  and  the  house  apparently  surrounded. 
Caleb. 
In  here:  [opens  a  closet.] 

Caspar. 
Wrong,  for  once!     In    Jiere^  and   follow    your 
43 


nose,  until  you  see  daylight  in  the  ravine  below, 
and  thence  you  shall  easily  escape.  {Caspar  slides 
a  panel  in  the  wall,  and  closes  it  on  Fauntleroy.) 
Now,  Caleb,  let  us  drink  to  his  escape;  here's  a 
bottle  of  fresh  apple-brandy. 

[They  drink.     Enter  Randal,  as  Sergeant  John- 
son, vnth  a  squad  of  Confederate  soldiers.] 
Sergeant   Johnson. 
He  is  here,  I'm  sure  of  it;  I  saw  him  at  the 
window,  and  he  cannot  have  escaped. 

[Enter  Captain  Coke.] 

Coke. 
Search   the   house — examine   every   nook   and 
cranny ! 

Caspar. 
Make  yourselves  at  home,  gentlemen;  and  when 
entirely  at  leisure,  perhaps  you  will  explain  why 
you  thus  rudely  invade  my  house! 

Coke. 
You  have  concealed  here  a  most  dangerous 
character — one  whom  we  mean  to  take  dead  or 
alive — one  Fauntleroy.  He  was  seen  to  enter 
here,  and  must  be  concealed  somewhere  in  this 
house — where  is  he? 

[Exit  Johnson  with  soldiers  into  the  inner  rooms, 

searching.] 
Caspar. 
There  is  my  daughter — ask  her. 

Coke. 
Pardon  me,  Miss,  but  where  is  this  Fauntleroy? 

Mima. 
There  is  Mr.  Jones,  our  neighbor,  ask  him ! 

Coke. 
Neighbor  Jones,  pray  tell  me  where  is  this  cul- 
prit, Fauntleroy? 

44 


Cdeh. 
I  will  inquire  diligently  of  this  bottle  by  drink- 
ing your  health.  [Drinks:  re-enter  Johnson.] 
Johnson. 
[Aside  to  Coke.  ]     We  have  searched  carefully 
and  cannot  find  him :  let  me  manage  this  old  toll- 
keeper — I'll  draw  something  out  of  him. 

[To  Caspar.]     You  are  a  Virginia  gentleman,  I 

understand;  just  a  little  seedy,  you  know:  now 

here  is  a  ten-dollar  greenback — ^just  tell  me   where 

that  fellow  is  concealed,  and  it  is  yours ! 

Caspar. 

You  take  me  for  a  Virginia  gentleman,  do  you? 

Johnson. 
Yes,  for  a  regiilar  F.  F.  V.,  upon  my  honor. 

Caspar. 
And  you  offer  me,  being  a  *  little  seedy,*  ten 
dollars  to  give  information.? 
Johnson. 
I  do,  in  all  sincerity. 

Caspar. 
Well,  here  is  my  answer,  given  in  old  Virginia 
style ! 

[Knocks  him  down:  Uncle  Jess  empties  the  bottle y 
and  brandishes  it:  Coke  lays  his  hand  on 
Johnson's  pistol.] 

Coke. 
Put  up  your  pistol :  we  will  have  no  more  fight- 
ing in  this  lady's  presence.     Calm  your  appre- 
hensions.  Miss,   answer   me   on  your   honor,   is 
Fauntleroy  concealed  in  this  house? 
Mima. 
On  my  honor,  he  is  not ! 
Coke. 
That  is  suflicient.     Sergeant,  recall  your  men, 
and  take  them  hence :  I  will  follow. 

[Exit  Sergt.  J.  and  squad,  followed  by  Coke.  ] 
45 


Caspar. 
Happy  escape!     Go  down,  Jesse,  and  collect 
the  toll,  and  we  will  in  to  dinner. 

[Ex.   omnes.  ] 

Scene  III 

A  large  hall  in  the  Old  Ruin. 

Present  Clarence  Fauntleroy  and  Mima.     Scenic 
effect,  melancholy. 

Fauntleroy. 
See,  love,  the  desolation  sheer  of  War! 
Here  once  there  rose  the  hospitable  roof 
Of  a  most  noble  mansion,  bowered  in  shade. 
While  wide  the  spreading  vista  seaward  stretched; 
And  generous  youths  and  blooming  maidenhood 
Around  this  hearth,  with  peace  and  plenty  dwelt: 
Now  all  is  wasted — all  is  mute — 
And,  gaining  by  a  superstitious  dread. 
Which  makes  the  country  folk  avoid  these  walls — 
That  they  are  haunted  by  the  restless  shades. 
Or  spirits,  of  their  oldtime  denizens — 
I  make  of  them  a  storehouse  for  my  wares. 

Mima. 
But  I'm  distressed  to  know  why  all  your  wares 
Upon  one  spot  are  ranged  in  this  wide  hall. 
While  all  the  other  space  is  vacant? 

Fauntleroy. 
That  you  must  guess,  but  with  this  much  of  cue; 
Should  Matthews  still  my  secret  flight  pursue. 
It  may  be  he  will  demonstrate  the  cause, 
Why  on  one  central  spot  with  all  my  goods,  I 
pause ! 

Mima. 
And  this  you  call  a  cue  for  my  distress? 
46 


Fauntleroy. 
And  that  I  call  a  cue,  and  for  your  guess ! 

Mima. 
Perhaps  I  do  not  spell  my  guess  with  Q? 

Fauntleroy. 
But  I  do  spell  mine  so — with  you ! 
Guess  me,  therefore,  the  contents  of  this  water- 
fall? 
'Twas  brought  to  me  worn  on  a  maiden's  head, 
Who,  when  escaping  through  the  Union  lines, 
Though  searched,  brought  to  our  aid  what  you 
shall  guess. 

Mima. 
The  problem  then,  I  understand,  is  this : 
Given  a  patriotic  maiden's  head. 
To  tell  the  contents  of  her  waterfall? 
I'd  rather  you'd  give  me  the  waterfall. 
To  tell  the  contents  of  the  head  that  wore  it ! 

Fauntleroy. 
But  that  would  be  to  give  away  the  problem; 
So  have  at  you :  pinned  on  it  here,  I  find 
An  inventorial  card:  guess  me  the  contents? 

Mima. 
An  infant  aureole?  blest  be  the  head 
Encircled  by  it !     And  when  it  is  full  grown 
I'll  guess,  and  not  before ! 

Fauntleroy. 
You  will  not  guess?  then  listen  while  I  give 
The  contents  to  you. 
'Of  quinine  forty  ounce.' 

Mima. 

Enough!  I'm  poisoned! 
Fauntleroy. 
'Twelve  morphine.' 

Mima. 
Gabriel  shall  not  awake  me! 
47 


Fauntleroy. 
*Eight  belladonna.' 

Mima. 

I'm  wild  already! 
Fauntleroy. 
*Ether,  two  grains.' 

Mima. 
I'm  in  the  seventh  heaven- 
Fa  wn^/ero?/. 
*Ten  chloroform.' 

Mima. 
Shall  never  touch  the  earth ! 
Fauntleroy. 
*Digitaline  two.' 

Mima. 
My  heart  has  ceased  to  beat! 
Fauntleroy. 
*0f  calomel  one  pound.' 

Mima. 

I'm  salivated! 
Fauntleroy. 
*Hartshom,  twelve  grains.' 
Mima. 

I  faint  in  spite  of  it ! 
Fauntleroy. 
And  so  you  see  the  patriotic  maid, 
Bore  seven  pounds  in  coil  upon  her  head 
Our  fevered  men  in  field  and  camp  to  aid ! 

Mima. 
My  patriotism  sure  my  neck  had  broke — 
A  fate  your  patriots  oftentimes  provoke ! 

[A  horn  is  heard — much  like  a  boat-horn. 
Fauntleroy. 
Hist !  there's  a  note  of  danger  while  we  talk — 
That's  Jesse's  sign  to  put  me  on  my  guard : 
I  shut  the  box:  set  yourself  on  it,  dear — 
48 


Mima. 
Good  fathers !  I  hope  I  shall  not  hatch  a  school 
Of  young  allopathists  from  all  this  physic ! 

[Clarence  goes  to  the  window,  and  looks  out.] 
Fauntleroy. 
Faithful  Jesse's  right — we  are  surrounded. 
Now  all  depends  upon  my  Mima's  courage ! 
Should  we  remain,  though  I  be  captured,  still 
You're  safe,  since  Matthews  doubtless  leads  in 

person; 
But  should  I  flee,  it  might  inure  your  harm — 
I  cannot  think  of  leaving  you  alone ! 

Mima. 
Fly,  Clarence,  fly !  and  do  not  fear  for  me ! 
I'm  not  afraid! 

Fauntleroy. 

But  will  you  fly  with  me? 
Mima. 
Anywhere!  anywhere!  but  lead  the  way!  I  follow 
But  trust  my  strength,  my  courage,  and  my  love! 

Fauntleroy. 
Then  mark  me,  darling — follow  my  directions. 
I  from  the  floor  slide  back  a  plank,  and  descend ; 
You'll  see  it  fitted  back  in  place  again; 
Then  on  the  box  you'll  take  your  seat,  as  now: 
Be  motionless,  keep  cool,  and  when  you  feel 
Yourself  descending,  do  not  try  to  gain 
The  firmer  floor  about  you,  lest  you  fall : 
Now  can  you  trust  yourself,  and  me? 

Mima. 
Yes,  both — and  God! 

Fauntleroy. 
Amen!  we'll  to  our  work,  for  time  grows  short. 
[He  slides  back  a  floor-plank  next  the  wall,  de- 
scends and  closes  it:  Mima  sees  it  neatly  fitted, 
and  sprinkles  dust  over  it:  She  returns  and 
sits  on  the  box.] 

49 


Mima. 
Haste,  now,  Clarence,  haste! 
I  hear  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  already — 
O,  closer,  closer  still,  they  come! 
My  God!  suppose  they're  here  ere  my  descent! 
They  shall  not  capture  me —  I  will  die  first! 
I'll  throw  me  on  their  glittering  sabres, 
And  perish,  loving  Clarence  more  than  life. 
O,  why  does  he  delay !     I  hear  their  voices ! 

[Voices  without:  tones  of  command.] 
The  floor — is  it  not  shaking?     Yes — I  feel  it! 
Yes,  yes,  it  creaks — it  moves — it  sinks — thank 

God! 
May  He  protect!  with  these  clasped  hands  I  pray — 
1st  Voice,  at  front  door. 

Open,  open  there!  within! 
2d  Voice,  at  rear  door. 
Open !  or  I'll  break  the  door  away ! 

Mima. 
Now  iron  bars  and  bolts,  but  do  your  duty, 
And  I'm  saved! 

[The  box,  with  Mima  thereon,  sinks  through  the 
trap-door:  in  two  minutes  the  latter  regains  its 
place  with  a  spring:  Enter  Randal,  as  Ser- 
geant Johnson,  with  soldiers  following.] 
Randal. 
Not  here?  By  heav'n,  I  saw  them  enter  here 
Not  fifteen  minutes  since!     Away! 
Search  all  the  ruin:  surround  the  court! 

[Exit  Guard.] 
I  cannot  solve  the  skein  of  this  escape, 
I  would  be  sworn  I  had  them  both  secure : 
And  are  the  superstitious  legends  true. 
That  these  old  walls  encircle  haunted  ground? 
Witches  and  wizards!  hellborn  spooks!  avaunt! 
Ho,  there!     Is  nothing  seen  of  them   out  there? 
50 


I'll  search  these  courts  and  ruins,  stone  by  stone, 
But  I'll  discover  where  the  game  is  flown ! 

[Exit] 

ACT  III 

Scene  I 

A  grotto  on  the  Bay,  at  the  mouth  of  a  cavern. 

Present   Mima   and    Clarence  F.,  emerging  from 
the  latter. 

Clarence. 
Here,  darling,  breaks  the  day  upon  our  path, 
And  finds  us  safe  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit. 
And  fronting  on  the  hospitable  sea. 
While  anchored  near,  my  jaunty  shallop  rides. 
To  carry  us  beyond  all  danger's  reach. 

Mima. 
Why  not  rest  here — no  further  flight,  I  think, 
CoiUd  find  a  shelter  more  secure  than  this? 

Clarence. 
Quite  true,  for  such  time  as  we  may  remain. 

Mima. 
Meanwhile,  my  father,  Clarence;  knowing  not 
Our  flight,  may  presage  gravest  ill  to  me — 
Think  me  a  prisoner  in  unsafe  hands, 
Or  victim  to  untoward  accident: 
O,  why  did  I  yield  to  your  own  entreaties, 
To  join  you  in  this  flight — 

Clarence. 
WTiere  then  was  love?     I  thought  you  came  for 

love? 
Companionship  in  rash  adventure,  darling. 
Is  but  a  boon  that  true  love  craves  of  fate. 
In  order  that  the  test  may  prove  its  strength. 
51 


Mima. 
But  there  is  filial  love  that's  no  less  due — 

Clarence. 
I  understand:  you  love  your  father  better! 

Mima. 
Did  I  say  better?  or  if  perchance  I  had! — 
Think  what  to  him,  in  piety,  I  owe? 

Clarence. 
You  did  not  say  you  loved  him  differently y 
But  better. 

Mima. 
Should  I  have  said  I  loved  indifferently? 
Who  would  have  thought  it,  Clarence  jealous? 

Clarence. 
Then  I'll  repent  me  of  my  jealousy; 
And  you  shall  seal  my  pardon  with  a  kiss ! 

Mima. 
Call  you  that  penance? 
I  wonder  what  your  punishment  would  be? 
But  not  to  let  this  humor  turn  away 
The  thought  that  lies  upon  my  mind  and  heart, 
How  shall  we  make  my  father  know  me  safe? 

Clarence. 
Nothing  easier: 

The  shades  of  night  will  soon  o'ercast  the  sky; 
Under  the  full  moon,  down  the  silent  coast. 
Unto  a  landing  near  your  father's  house 
We'll  row;  and  you  can  then  return  to  him. 

Mima. 
How  quick  he  wishes  to  get  rid  of  me? 
Here  in  this  grotto,  by  the  solemn  sea. 
One  would  suppose  that  every  ancient  tale 
Of  love  disporting  triton  would  avail. 
To  make  a  lover,  time's  swift  passage  mock. 
And  linger  as  if  fastened  to  the  rock. 
By  siren  music,  or  promethean  lock! 
52 


Clarence. 
Bravo !  here  will  we  bide,  and  share  one  fate — 
Be  you  my  Muse — worth  all  the  other  eight ! 

Mima. 
Ha !  ha !  a  merry  muse  in  every  sense, 
Given,  however  grave  the  exigence. 
To  laugh,  and  pluck  the  rose  of  revelry 
From  out  the  briars  of  catastrophe ! 

[Sings.] 
Or  in  thy  shallop  shoaling 

Where  willows  fringe  the  bay, 
What  time  the  shades  are  falling 

Over  thi  verge  of  day — 
Look  through  the  offing  to  the  sea — 
Look  through  the  offing,  Love,  and  think  of 
me! 

Or  in  the  starry  stillness 

Of  some  transcendent  night — 

O,  beneath  the  fulness 

Of  the  maiden  moon's  soft  light, 

Look  from  thy  casement  to  the  sea — 

Look  from  thy  casement,  Love,  and  think 
of  me! 

Go  seek  our  trysting  places — 

Delve  in  the  shelving  shore : 
Go  where  the  old  fort  faces 

The  surge's  ceaseless  roar: 
Go  there,  my  Love,  down  by  the  sea — 
Go  there  to  gather  shells,  and  think  of  me! 

Clarence. 
Had  we  not  bargained  to  be  desperate, 
I  might  have  cautioned  you  against  the  sound 
From  your  voice  rising  upward  to  the  cliff: 
But  putting  your  poetic  point  on  it, 
53 


Which  you  so  finely  rounded  in  your  speech 
Before  your  song  began,  I  thought  the  ear 
That  caught  such  heavenly  music  would  but  hear 
A  mermaid  in  her  chambers  of  the  sea, 
Awake  the  echoes  with  sweet  minstrelsy ! 

Mima. 
Pshaw!  Clarence,  why  did  you  not  stop  me? 
Your  point  is  rather  sharp  than  fine — 

Clarence. 
I'm  glad  you  do  not  nominate  it  dull ! 

Mima. 
I  do ;  but  yet  not  flat,  and  therefore  sharp. 
I'm  angry  with  you  now,  and  so  must  air 
My  wrath  by  picking  shells  upon  this  beach. 

[  They  walk  on  the  beach.] 
Why  here  is  a  most  curious  smooth  stone. 
With  something  pencilled  on  its  rounded  surface — 
A  name — I'll  read  it  to  you : 

[Reads] 
Randal  Glaive  : — 

'  Farewell !  a  long  farewell. 

To  conscience  turned  to  stone! 
Should  we  two  meet  again  'tis  ill, 
For  I  will  do  as  thou  art  done, 
And  I  will  leap  where  thou  art  thrown.' 

Clarence. 
'Tis  curious:  'Randal  Glaive:'  methinks  the  name 
With  no  unwonted  sound  falls  on  my  ear : 
'Randal  Glaive:'  yes,  now  I  do  remember  him: 
There  was  a  youth,  in  Richmond  city  reared, 
Hence  drifted  here  and  there  and  everywhere 
Along  the  coast;  a  reckless  character, 
Engaged  in  brawls — suspect  of  crimes  also — 
But  very  learned  withal,  and  educated: 
He  took  the  sea,  much  to  relief  of  's  neighbors, 
54 


Thence  nothing  has  been  seen  or  heard  of  him 

Great  God!  what  have  we  here? 

[Sees  Fairfax  lying  stark,] 
A  corpse? 
Even  so!  a  deed  most  damnable  is  here. 
For  see,  upon  the  skull  a  murderous  blow; 
Some  mutiny  at  sea,  perchance — 

[He  raises  Lamoir's  head.] 
O,  God!  it  is  Fairfax  Lamoir! 
Mima. 
Lamoir?  your  partner,  Clarence?     O,  me! 
Alas,  Lamoir!  alas,  the  day!     O,  me!     O,  me! 
Shall  we  not  bear  his  body  thence  away? 
You  cover  him  with  useless  tears  and  kisses; 
The  dead  are  not  to  be  restored  by  grief. 
He  breathes?     Yes,  yes!  he  may  not  yet  be  dead! 

Clarence. 
He  is  not  dead !  his  heart,  by  slight  pulsation. 
Proclaims  a  vital  spark  still  unextinct: 
Here,  Mima,  let  us  lift  him  in  the  boat. 

[Two  *  Longshoremen  pa^s  at  a  distance  in  the 
*Wild  Ducky'  with  muffled  oars,  and  unob- 
served.] 
We  will  convey  him  to  a  refuge  near 
And  known  to  me,  secure  from  public  haunts. 
Where  all  that  medicine,  and  nursing  can, 
Shall  minister  to  his  dear  restoration. 
O,  Mima!  I  have  loved  this  man!  he  was 
My  friend — sincere,  devoted,  upright,  pious. 
And  full  of  noble  courage:  O!  I  could  curse 
The  hand  that  smiting,  marred  this  mental  frame. 
Whereon  were  trained  such  gentle  flowers  of  soul — 
[Exeunt  with  Lamoir  in  the  shaUop.] 


55 


Scene  II 

The  High  Bluff  as  before. 

Enter  Randal  Glaive. 

Randal, 
Can  I  be  wrong?     No,  'tis  the  spot: 
And  here  the  stone  I  rolled  upon  the  grave, 
Where  buried  lies  the  treasure  of  my  fortune: 
Yes — ^yes — here  is  my  mark;  or  rather,  his — 
A  cross !  I  would  to  God  it  were  a  crescent ! 
A  cross      *      *        There  is  the  trouble  with  these 

priests. 
And  saints,  and  ghost  stories  of  prayers  and  bibles; 
A  man  cannot,  in  peace  and  quiet,  rob. 
Or  in  an  inoffensive  manner,  steal. 
Or  plunder,  but  here  comes  a  troubled  mind. 
Stirred  up  by  parsons,  or  by  silly  women. 
To  mar  the  natural  pleasure  of  success : 
One  world  a  time  were  surely  worlds  enough ! 
But  now,  no  sooner  shall  I  get  this  gold, 
But  I  must  rid  of  it :  'twill  scorch  my  hands — 
'Twill  bum  my  pocket  through — 'twill  heat  my 

nerves, 
Until  they  touch  the  brain,  and  make  me  drink 
To  cool  or  soothe  them;  I  must  play,  carouse. 
Pursue  frail  woman,  or  court  violence — 
Fly  from  myself,  until  perchance,  who  knows? 
I  may  turn  patriot,  and  join  the  army ! 

*        *        *        Softly,  here  comes  yon  ruffian 
Whom  dire  necessity  compels  me  to  employ : 
I'll  have  an  eye  on  him :  he  must  walk  straight. 
And  keep  my  front  full  squarely — 

[Enter  Ralph  Simpson.] 
Here  at  last? 
I  feared  you  had  gone  back  on  me,  or  failed  me, 
56 


Or  y  prove  too  late  for  our  appointed  hour 
With  our  two  'Longshoremen. 

Ralph. 

I  was  detained. 
Randal. 
Here  is  the  spot,  beneath  this  stone,  which  marked 
By  me — 

Ralph. 
By  you? 

Randal. 
Aye,  Sir — have  you  grown  deaf? 
Have  you  a  ground  on  which  to  question  it? 
To  me,  I  beheve,  you  look  for  compensation — 
See  that  you  earn  it. 

Ralph. 
I  will,  and  that  you  pay  it: 
No  oflFense  I  hope :  I  dig — you  pay  me  for  it — 
I  carry  and  am  mum :  you  pay  me  handsome — 
Handsome,  mark  you,  and  we  call  it  square — 

Randal. 
No  more:  fall  to  and  roll  away  this  stone: 
Now — both  together! 

[  They  roll  the  stone  back  from  over  Caspar's  box, 
over  the  treasure  of  Fairfax  again.] 
Now  dig,  cautiously, 
Lest  you  should  strike  the  box. 

[Ralph  digs  and  sings.] 

Wary  Larry  Thimblerig, 

When  first  he  went  a  stealin*, 
Borrowed  neighbor  Jones's  pig — 

The  pig  began  a  squealin': 
A  pretty  pig  are  you,  he  said. 

To  thus  reward  my  labors, 
A  honest  pig  and  gentle  bred. 

Would  never  'larm  the  neighbors ! 
57 


A  honest  pig,  and  gentle  bred. 
Would  never  'larm  the  neighbors! 

A  squealin'  is  it,  on  a  pal? 

Is  that  your  game,  my  bristle? 
I'll  close  upon  the  throttle-val' 

And  cut  off  steam  and  whistle! 
A  pretty  pig  are  you,  he  said. 

To  cancel  all  my  labors — 
A  honest  pig,  and  gentle  bred, 

Would  never  'larm  the  neighbors ! 
A  honest  pig,  and  gentle  bred. 

Would  never  'larm  the  neighbors ! 

Randal. 
But  you'll  alarm  them  with  your  noisy  throat. 
Like  a  downright  dishonest  hog!  ho  there! 
You've  struck  the  box ! 

Ralph, 
No,  Sir,  not  yet,  I  haven't 
[Continues  to  dig.] 

Randal. 
I  say;  have  you  e'er  heard  of  Conscience? 

Ralph. 
I  never  did;  is  he  in  either  army? 

Randal. 

No! 

Ralph. 
Loyal? 

Randal. 
Yes — ^to  both  the  Governments. 

Ralph. 
Smart  fellow  that :  he  puts  it  up  on  'em. 
What  oflSce  has  he — this  man.  Conn.  Shuns? 
58 


Randal. 
He  never  gets  an  office  in  this  country ! 
They  call  him  private  Conscience — 
And  in  public  affairs,  he  has  no  voice. 

Ralph. 
Is  not  in  politics,  you  say? 

Randal. 

No,  no! 
An  utter  stranger  there — not  known  at  all ! 

Ralph. 
A  lawyer  it  may  be? 

Randal. 

Has  practised  law. 
But  gave  it  up,  for  lo,  these  many  years. 

Ralph. 
Perhaps  he  nms  a  newspaper? 

Randal. 
Oh,  no !     He  keeps  aloof  from  editors. 
As  nuns  avoid  the  stage,  or  priests  bad  wine ! 

Ralph. 
From  New  England? 

Randal. 
Bom  there,  they  claim :  if  so, 
He  emigrated  early,  and  for  good ! 

Ralph. 
I  guess  I  never  knew  nor  heard  of  him : 
Did  you  e*er  know  the  man  that  did  know  him? 

Randal. 
IVe  known  some  men  most  lucky  not  to  know  him : 
He's  a  detective! 

Ralph. 

No !  the  bloody  cop ! 
A  downright  inconvenience — a  nuisance ! 

[Strikes  the  box.  ] 
Look  out,  I've  struck  your  box ! 

Randal. 

Be  easy  with  it — 
59 


Bare  the  top  there. 

[They  lift  out  Gaspares  box.] 
Ralph. 
'Tis  not  so  heavy,  at  last. 
Randal. 
No  matter — fill  the  hole  up  smoothly  there — 
[Aside]     Curse  the  box,  it  seems  to  have  grown 

more  light. 
[Aloud]     Now  lay  hold  there,   and  we'll  make 

shift  to  meet 
A  prompt  appointment  on  the  beach  with  our 
Two  lusty  'Longshoremen;  and  soon  thereafter. 
We'll  cross  the  Bay,  and  place  his  widest  girth 
Betwixt  us  and  this  God-forsaken  coast. 
Whereon  sits  War,  as  vultures  on  their  prey, 
Beaking  the  flesh  that  caverns  up  the  heart — 
Tearing  the  vitals  with  their  claws  of  steel — 
And  gloating  as  each  feebler  stroke  denotes 
The  sure  extinction  of  expiring  life ! 
But  enough  of  that — Come  man,  we'll  on ! 

Ralph. 
All  right — I'm  with  you. 

[Exeunty  hearing  the  box  between  them.] 


Scene  III 

Coast  of  the  Bay,  same  as  in  Scene  I  of  Act  I. 

The  'Wild  Duck'  hauled  up:  enter  the  two  'Long- 
shoremen. 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
Comrade,  was  you  ever  in  Nawth  Caliny? 

2d  'Longshoreman. 
No !  nor  never  will  be,  till  conscripted 
And  drug  down  thah ! 

60 


1st   *  Longshoreman. 
That's  me,  except  that  I've  been  thah  time-'n'- 

agin. 
I've  runned  blockade  with  Cap'n  Wilkenson: 
We  runned  the  '  Lee'  out  oust  'thout  any  coal — 
Nary  hell,  if  we  didn't ! 

M  'Longslwreman. 
You  runned  your  grandam  out ! 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
No  Suh,  we  used  Caliny  slate  and  slag. 
And  glued  'em  up  with  cotton ! 

2d  'Longshoreman. 

Glued  up  your  grandam ! 
Come  cut  that  yarn  off  short  thah,  comrade — 
It's  wellnigh  time  for  them  thah  chaps  to  be  hyuh; 
I  wish  to  have  some  talk  on  business. 
I'm  not  inclined  to  shove  a  inch  from  sho'. 
Until  I'm  paid  in  money  for  this  trip — 
In  goll  or  greenbacks,  twenty  dollahs,  sho'. 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
All  right:  I'm  with  you:  hyuh  they  come! 

[Enter  Randal  and  Simpson,  carrying  the  box.  ] 

2d  'Longshoreman. 
The  other  end  thah — heave  her  in — that  way ! 

Randal. 
Well  now,  my  lads,  shove  out,  and  lose  no  time! 
The  night  sets  in,  unveiled  by  mist  or  fog. 
And  though  no  moon  rides  in  the  fleecy  vault. 
The  stars  keep  dancing  in  the  shifting  sky; 
And  the  wind,  with  steady  brace,  blows  from  the 

offing 
Out  toward  the  all-inviting  stretch  of  sea; 
The  tide  is  rising,  and  all  signs  of  heaven. 
And  earth,  and  water  under  them  seem  bright 
And  auspicious,  for  our  departure  seaward. 
So  shove  away,  my  hearties ! 
61 


M  ^Longshoreman. 
It  is  not  reason :  we've  our  livin'  to  yearn ! 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
Our  livin'  we've  to  yearn ! 

Randal. 
Well  then,  shove  out ! 
As  soon  as  we  shall  touch  the  Chincoteague, 
I'll  pay  you  more  than  you've  contracted  for; 
We  waste  the  night:  your  pay  is  well  assured; 
Here  is  my  box;  think  ye  I  have  incurred 
All  risks  without  some  treasure  in  this  box? 
Come,  shove  away,  my  lads !  ^ 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
The  minit  them  two  tens  is  planked,  she  glides ! 

Randal. 
Now  look  ye,  lads,  I'm  armed  and  desperate; 
Come,  let  us  get  away  from  here  forthwith ! 

M  'Longshoreman. 
No  nary  inch  until  the  cash  is  paid ! 
Yo*  pistol  cannot  scare  a  'longshoreman. 

Randal. 
[Aside]     This  is  perplexing: 
I've  not  a  cent  in  gold  or  silver  with  me. 
[Aloud.]     My  friends,  we  may,  at  any  moment 

here, 
Be  surprised,  and  my  treasure  confiscated : 
Get  us  out  once  to  sea,  and  I'll  pay  you — 
You  shall  have  your  reward :  just  paddle  out ! 

M  'Longshoreman. 
Nary  paddle,  'till  we're  paid ! 

1st  'Longshoreman. 

Nary  paddle! 
Randal. 
Well  be  it  so :  I'll  ope  this  box  and  pay  you : 
But  mark :  revolver  in  my  hand,  I  guard  it. 
And  if  there's  one  false  motion  made  toward  it, 
I'll  sweep  the  deck  from  stem  to  stern ! 
62 


M  'Longshoreman. 

All  right! 
If  when  we're  paid,  we  do  not  row  you  out, 
Just  shoot  us  down ! 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
Jist  shoot  us  down  right  quick ! 
Randal. 
[To  Simpson]     Lend  me  a  hand  here  and  we'll  pry 
the  top. 
[They  open  the  box  and  discover  Caspar's  Con- 
federate Bonds.] 
[Aside]     Great  Heaven!  what  have  we  here! 
But  imder  these  there  must  be  gold  and  silver! 
[Throws  the  Bonds  on  deck:  finds  nothing  else: 

stamps  on  them.] 
May  all  the  foulest  fiends  of  foulest  depths 
Seize  on  the  fool  that  played  for  such  a  stake ! 
And  damn  to  lower  deeps  this  baseless  trash — 
These  rotten  leaves — this  worse  than  waste  paper 
The  very  froth  of  public  lunacy — 
The  very  draft  of  insane  self-bef oulment ! 
O !  was't  for  this — for  this — ^you  idiot, 
You  tempted  me  to  fling  your  drivelling  soul 
Down  to  the  fool's  hell,  where  such  dolts  are 

doomed? 
But  yesterday,  I  could  have  wished  you  were 
Alive  again :  I  would  have  given  up 
The  whole — supposing  all  this  soUd  gold — 
Could  you,  escaping  from  the  unknown  clime. 
Have  claimed  again  your  own !     But  not  so  now — 
Back !  back,  to  your  infernal  keepers,  wretch,        ^ 
And  tell  them  that  no  crime  so  foul,  but  were 
Surpassed  in  infamy  by  such  a  blunder! 
Stand  back  from  me  now,  ruflSans ! 
I  am  a  madman,  and  would  rather  spatter 
Your  brains  about  the  timbers  of  your  craft. 
Than  palter  with  you  for  one  moment  more ! 
63 


Ralph. 
Shove  out  the  boat  there  'Shoreman ! 

Randal. 
Shove  out?  shove  on!  it  matters  not  to  me! 
The  first  that  dares  to  draw,  and  fire — let  fly ! 
He'll  find  me  more  than  ready  to  reply ! 

[The  *  Shoremen  seize  the  oars:  Randal  leaps  ashore 

and  exit.  ] 
Ralph. 
Well  there's  a  spot  o'  work! 
I  thought  him  but  a  common  blockade-runner, 
And  went  for  him  as  such: — confound  the  luck! 
Did  you  not  mark  him?  that  man's  a  murderer! 
A  great  big  mist  begins  to  roll  away — 
Whose  bonds  are  these? 

2d  *  Longshoreman. 

I  'spose  that  now  they're  ourn. 
Ralph. 
Gather  them  up  and  nail  them  in  the  box. 
Then  take  them  whither  I  direct. 
2d  'Longshoreman. 

Ha!  ha! 
We'll  take  them  to  your  grandam ! 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
Who're  you  to  orduh  us — them  bonds  is  ourn. 

Ralph. 
Are  they?  attend  to  me,  my  lads,  a  moment: 
See  you  yon  crazy-looking  gig  out  there? 
Here  take  my  glass,  and  watch  her  while  I  signal. 
[Ralph  signals  to  a  gig  out  beyond  the  offing.  ] 
2d  'Longshoreman. 
Why  that's  a  cutter,  and  she's  tacking  leeward. 
That  critter  would  ha'  picked  us  up ! 
1st  'Longshoreman. 

Nary  hell! 
64 


Ralph, 
Now  here's  a  pass  for  you  two  'Longshoremen. 
[Pencils  his  name  to  a  printed  pass.  ] 
To  keep  you  out  of  service,  while  I  need  you; 
Now  take  your  choice:  obey,  or  be  conscripted. 

The  *  Longshoremen. 
Conscripted ! 

Ralph. 
Yes,  conscripted !  know  you  not 
The  meaning  of  the  word? 

M  'Longshoreman. 
Cap*n  for  God's  sake,  show  a  man  a  chance; 
We  will  do  anything  you  say. 
Ralph. 

Very  well: 
Take  up  these  Bonds :  I'll  count,  while  you  replace 

them: 
I'll  put  them  in  your  charge;  let  none  be  lost: 

[They  replace  the  Bonds,  and  nail  the  top.  ] 
[Aside]     These  Bonds  were  stolen:  I  make  no 

doubt  of  it 
They  have  the  tollgate-keeper's  name  on  them : 
An  old  ass:  and  that  scamp  perchance  has  killed 

him. 
[Aloud]     Now  boys,  we'll  shove  to  meet  yon  gig, 
And  when  we  make  her,  and  I've  boarded  her. 
Row  for  the  Point,  as  I've  directed  you. 
And  take  these  Bonds  to  Captain  Bain. 

[Exeunt  in  the   Wild  Duck.*] 


65 


Scene   IV 

Camp  'Twelve  Oaks,'  near  the  Ruin;  Tent  of  Colonel 

Matthews,  with  fly  lifted  toward  the  Bay:  scenic 

effect  picturesque. 

Present,  Matthews  and  his  Orderly. 

Matthews. 
Boy,  bring  me  here  my  glass,  for  in  the  Bay, 
Out  toward  the  Islands,  sails  a  curious  craft. 

[Examines  it  with  his  glass.  ] 
Mount  horse,  and  quickly  to  the  Signal  post, 
And  hither  ask  an  officer. 

[Exit  Orderly.] 
A  convoy  she  might  be,  but  'tis  not  likely; 
She  veers  out  now;  now  turns  her  head  to  land; 
The  Signal  Corps  must  make  report  to  me. 
Now  by  my  watch  an  hour  yet  remains 
Before  my  officers  in  council  meet; 
Meanwhile  I'll  rest. 

[Stretches  himself  on  the  tent  floor,  and  sleeps.] 

Enter  Randal. 

Randal. 

[Aside]      To  dare — always  to  dare — that  is  my 

maxim. 
To  pass  a  coward  is  to  conquer  him; 
A  brave  man  runs  the  race  from  end  to  end : 
With  more  aggression,  I  will  drive  back  fate! 
First,  yon  good  easy  martinette,  I'll  put 
On  the  wrong  scent,  and  keep  the  pursuit  hot: 
Meanwhile  the  lover  thus  pursued  by  him. 
Snared  in  the  net  of  her  own  love,  the  mistress, 
I  will  decoy,  and  bear  beyond  their  reach : — 
But  this — all  this,  requires  haste :  here  goes — 
Colonel  Matthews! 

66 


Matthews  [starting.] 

Here  General !  here,  are  those  Dispatches  safe ! 
******* 

Your  pardon,  Corporal;  I  did  but  dream. 

And  the  mind  overtaxed,  while  dwelling  on  one 

object, 
Sprang  to  its  consummation  in  the  land 
Of  visions:  can  I  serve  you  anywise? 

Randal. 
'Tis  not  to  serve  myself  I  come,  but  you; 
T'  acquaint  you  with  the  knowledge  accident 
Betrayed  to  me,  respecting  Fauntleroy — 
This  information,  startling  as  it  is. 
Comes  all  authenticated  to  my  ears, 
And  when  communicated,  may  lead  you 
Not  only  to  just  punishment  of  crime. 
Most  heinous,  and  unnaturally  committed. 
But  may,  for  aught  that  I  can  say,  reflect 
Some  light  upon  the  subject  of  your  dream. 
Which  I  disturbed — 

Matthews. 
My  dreams  are  not  official. 
Nor  subject  to  discussion  here:  you  know. 
In  visiting  this  coast,  my  orders  were  I 

To  break  up  this  unauthorized  sea-trade : 
You  aided  us :  we  thank  you.  Corporal ; 
The  blockade-runner  most  notorious. 
That  Fauntleroy,  we  learn  has  left  this  coast, 
Escaped,  but  driven  from  his  wonted  haunts, 
Deterred,  no  doubt,  in  future  from  such  traffic. 

Randal. 
Of  him — ^this  Clarence  Fauntleroy — I  come 
To  speak,  and  his  most  foul  misdeed : 
He  had  a  partner — Fairfax  Lamoir  by  name. 

Matthews. 
A  partner?     I  see:  yes,  yes — and  what  of  him? 
Although  my  reasons  may  not  be  apparent, 
67 


I  should  much  Uke  to  know  his  whereabouts, 
And  get,  in  some  communicable  form, 
A  clue  to  him;  can  you,  good  Corporal, 
Assist  me  in  this  purpose? 

Randal, 
Alas !  until  some  genius  more  than  Morse 
Invent  a  speech  to  worlds  beyond  our  own, 
Through  unknown  spheres  of  intermediate  space. 
Whereby  the  living  voice  to  the  dead  sense 
May  speak,  as  spirits  whisper  unto  ghosts. 
You  cannot  more  communicate  with  him ! 
Fairfax  Lamoir  is  dead — not  dead  alone. 
But,  as  I  learn,  is  murdered ! 

Matthews  [rising.] 

Say  you  so? 
Murdered?     Now,  by  the  gods,  can  I  but  find 
The  author  of  so  foul  a  crime,  my  vengeance. 
As  swift  as  a  court-martial  can  convene. 
Shall  follow  him,  and  send  him  to  consort 
In  spirit,  with  the  Cains,  and  murderers. 
Assassins,  felons,  and  base  wretches 
Who  in  all  ages  have  disgraced  the  form 
And  name  of  man ! 

Why  say  you — murdered! 

Randal. 
He  had  a  partner,  deeply  dyed  in  guilt. 
Named  Fauntleroy,  of  whom  you've  made  already 
Ceaseless  pursuit,  mysteriously  evaded; 
I  have  good  ground  to  brand  him  with  this  crime. 
Of  murdering  by  treachery  your  envoy — 
I  think  his  guilt  can  be  estabhshed. 

Enter  Master  Bain. 
Bain. 
Your  service.  Colonel!     Your  orderly 
Brought  me  a  message  that  you  wanted  me. 


Matthews. 
I  sent  for  you  to  note  a  curious  sail, 
Which  stood  sometime  upon  the  Bay,  and  then 
Made  for  the  shore :  but  you  are  opportune 
In  reference  to  another  matter :  the  fate 
Of  poor  Lamoir:  have  you  heard  aught  of  him? 

Bain. 
I  have,  and  should  desire  your  private  ear. 

Randal. 
[Aside]     The  sky  looks  dark  for  me — this  fellow 
knows  me. 

Matthews. 
Master,  proceed  with  any  revelation 
Touching  Lamoir:  this  Corporal  is  here 
Upon  that  business:  what  tidings  have  you.'^ 

Bain. 
Almost  too  sad  for  utterance — cruel 
Beyond  belief :  he  has  been  killed — murdered ! 

Matthews. 
So  much  I  have  already  heard  conjectured; 
Now  have  you  proofs  whereby  to  fix  the  guilt 
Upon  the  actor  in  so  base  a  crime? 

Bain. 
We  have  two  witnesses — two  'longshoremen — 

Randal. 
[Aside]     Aha!  the  coil  about  me  seems  to  tight- 
en! 
Those  'shoremen  have  betrayed  me! 

Bain. 
Who,  though  they  did  not  see  the  deed  enacted. 
Saw  evidence  of  circumstantial  guilt. 

Randal. 
But  mere  suspicion  cannot  mount  to  proof! 
Whom  do  these  men  suspect? 

Bain. 
It  matters  not;  I  have  his  name,  and  think 
The  murderer  can  be  to  justice  brought. 


Randal. 
The  name !  the  name !  shall  surmise  mere  and  hint 
Pass  in  so  grave  a  charge  for  evidence? 

Matthews. 
You  are  excited  Corporal :  keep  cool : 
And  Master  Bain,  you  may  go  on  forthwith, 
And  without  hesitation,  to  relate 
Such  facts  as  tend  to  indicate  the  one 
Whom  you  suspect:  and  first,  his  name? 

Bain. 
Is  Clarence  Fauntleroy! 

Randal. 
[Aside ]     Aha !  now  I  breathe ! 
[Aloud]     Had  I  not  so  announced  the  murderer? 

Matthews. 
You  had;  but  still  no  evidence  as  yet, 
Nor  circumstance  of  guilt  has  beeti  adduced: 
What  say  your  'longshoremen? 

Bain. 
They  say  that  yesterday  at  eve,  they  passed. 
With  muffled  oars,  a  grotto  on  the  Bay, 
A  much  secluded  spot,  known  but  to  few. 
Frequented  chiefly  by  this  Fauntleroy, 
And  his  confreres  in  running  the  blockade: 
Here  unobserved,  they  saw  him  and  another 
(A  woman  whom  report  ascribes  to  be 
His  future  wife),  lift  up  the  dead  Lamoir, 
And  place  him  in  a  skiff  or  shallop  near. 
And  bear  him  thence  away  for  burial. 
Or  some  unknown  and  obscure  resting  place. 
The  twain,  we  learn,  have  sometime  disappeared. 
And  have  concealed  themselves,  thus  bearing  wit- 
ness 
Of  consciences  anticipating  pursuit. 
And  manifesting  self-accusing  fear. 
70 


Randal. 
Beyond  all  question,  they  had  murdered  him. 
And  these  too  plain  conjectures  mark  the  truth ! 

Matthews, 
They  shall  be  tested,  and  my  life  on  it, 
If  guilt  be  proved,  swift  punishment  shall  follow : 
And  let  me  pray  you.  Master,  spare  no  pains 
And  call  on  me  for  any  force  you  need. 
The  hour  appointed  for  a  conference 
With  officers  of  my  command  draws  near: 
I  bid  you  both  good  morning! 

[Exeunt  Randal  and  Bain:  enter  Coke,  Field, 

and  other  officers.] 
Two  days  have  passed,  and  yet  no  certain  tidings 
Of  him  who  was  to  meet  me  here — Lamoir: 
Ne'er  stood  dispatches  more  in  hand  than  his: 
The  time  is  pressing — already  on  the  James, 
The  thunder  of  the  Federal  guns  resounds. 
Thrown  back  by  Richmond's  outer  battlements: 
Fitz  Lee  curves  round  with  cautious  generalship, 
To  learn  positions,  numbers  and  designs. 
While  Stuart,  Bayard  of  our  Southern  arms. 
To  draw  attention  from  our  main  advance, 
Drives  headlong  through  th'  alignment  of  the  foe. 
With  figures,  maps  authentically  drawn. 
And  plans,  which  from  official  sources  gleaned. 
Make  up  dispatches  of  great  note,  Lamoir 
Wrote  me  that  he  would  meet  me  on  this  coast. 
And  still  no  tidings  of  him  yet,  except 
Untoward  rumors  of  his  taking  off:  | 

I  question  not  but  that  the  forward  movement  j 

Of  fifty  thousand  men  waits  our  report. 
Meanwhile  here  comes  a  whisper  that  a  force. 
With  Wyndham  in  command,  has  disembarked. 
On  Roanoke,  and  thence  is  marching  North, 
Attracted  doubtless  by  our  occupation. 
I've  called  this  council  to  consult  our  course. 
71 


Shall  we  return,  bereft  and  barred  of  all 
That  we  were  trusted  to  secure? 
Officers. 

Never ! 
Matthews. 
And  yet  we  cannot  stay,  except  for  battle, 
Upon  the  gage  of  which  we  may  not  venture. 

Field. 
TheyVe  one  brigade,  and  we  a  regiment; 
Say  one  to  three — why  not  give  battle? 

Officers. 
Let  us  attack ! 

Field. 
The  odds  are  such  as  we're  accustomed  to. 
For  on  each  Southern  horse  there  rides  the  equal 
Of  Federal  horsemen,  three  at  least,  or  more ! 

Matthews. 
Not  thai — ^not  that — my  gallant,  patriot  soldiers! 
I  know  your  value,  and  superior  courage. 
My  orders  are  to  listen,  not  to  fight ! 
The  horse  are  eyes  and  ears,  not  sabres  only ! 
Our  present  purpose  is  more  delicate — 
Is  more  responsible,  than  simple  combat : 
The  enemy's  designs  once  understood. 
The  skilled  commander  strikes  him  unaware, 
Unlocks  his  stratagem  with  his  own  key — 
Prevents  him,  ere  his  plans  mature  for  action. 
Through  secret  cypher,  invented  by  Lamoir, 
Fitz  Lee  has  learned  the  fulness  of  his  knowledge. 
It  is  most  valuable:  what  shall  we  do? 
What  try  the  next? 

Coke. 
But  one  thing  now  remains — 
Arrest  this  Fauntleroy !  he  may  confess 
His  guilt,  and  purchase  life  by  giving  up 
The  lost  dispatches — 

72 


Officers. 
Good !  that  should  seem  best ! 
Matthews. 
*Tis  true;  there  seems  much  weight  in  that  sug- 
gestion; 
If  only  we  can  capture  that  brigand, 
Which  much  I  doubt;  he  has  eluded  us, 
With  wondrous — almost  weird — sagacity. 
But  to  the  pursuit,  still  another  day 
I  will  forthwith  devote;  so  to  our  saddles — 
Orderly!  my  horse! 

[Exeunt  in  different  directions. 


78 


ACT  IV 

Scene  I 

A  tenU  between  Camp  *  Twelve  Oaks'  and  the  Ruin: 
Present^  Col.  Matthews,  and  staff:  Capt.  Coke, 
05  judge  advocate:  Officers  of  Court- Martial: 
Fauntleroy  arraigned:  Master  Bain:  Randal 
Glaive:  Watermen:  Guard.  Scenic  effect  anti- 
jvdicial. 

1st  Member  of  Court  Martial. 
What!  Fauntleroy!     Did  he  give  himself  up? 

President. 
He  surely  did — the  desperate  convict! 

2d  Member. 
Well,  could  there  be  a  stronger  proof  of  's  guilt? 

President. 
Not  possibly,  unless  he  had  escaped. 
Or  been  arrested  by  an  officer. 

Coke. 
The  charges  are  in  form,  as  specified : 
The  prisoner  arraigned:  now  to  the  proofs. 

Ist  Member. 
Shall  he  have  counsel? 

President. 
No!  we  are  his  counsel. 
As  justice  of  the  County  Court,  I  learned 
The  judge,  at  common  law,  was  ever  counsel 
For  prisoners. 

2d  Member. 
Good  sakes!  I  pray,  what  for? 
74 


President. 
To  see  that  none  escape ! 

Jfth  Member. 
I  do  most  surely  like  this  mode  of  trial ! 
Where  lawyers,  with  their  codes,  and  forms,  and 

pleas. 
Are  got  rid  of;  no  perjury  induced, 
By  having  witnesses  for  prisoners — 
No  proofs  but  what  shall  tend  to  criminate — 
Nothing  abated,  nor  demurred  to — 
Certain  conviction,  and  without  delay. 
And  no  continuance,  nor  pardon  intervened. 

3d  Member. 
Superb  system;  see  what  expense  is  saved! 

J^ih  Member. 
Also,  how  few  escape?  excellent,  excellent! 

2d  Member. 
I  wonder  'twas  not  had  in  time  of  peace ! 
Then  all  this  study  of  the  law — this  wrangle — 
Appeals,  casas,  and  writs  of  fumblejig — 
Could  have  been  superseded! 

1st  Member. 
And  so  it  shall  be  introduced  in  peace ! 
Think  you  we  shall  learn  nothing  by  this  War? 
I  tell  you  nay — when  once  the  War  is  closed. 
You'll  never  hear  of  jury-law  again. 
Nor  chancery,  nor  habeas  corpus. 
Nor  all  this  idle  talk  of  constitutions. 
No  lawyer  shall  get  in  the  legislature; 
We'll  save  the  salaries  of  clerks,  and  judges. 
And  tipple-staves,  and  bailiwicks,  and  ushers. 
Five  honest  men,  unlearned  like  ourselves. 
Shall  rectify  disputes  by  common  sense. 
And  try  all  prisoners  without  delay. 
To  see  that  though  the  innocent  may  suffer, 
The  guilty  never  shall  escape ! 
75 


Cohe. 
Come,  let  the  trial  now  proceed !     What  say 
You,  prisoner;  guilty,  or  not  guilty? 

Fauntleroy. 
I  say  not  guilty !     I — 

President. 

Then  so  you  say — 
No  more :  now  to  the  proof  and  testimony. 
5th  Member  [putting  on  his  hat.] 
How  short  the  trial  was !  we  are  relieved. 
Before  the  proof  came  in. 

President. 
What  do  you  mean?  the  trial  must  proceed. 

5th  Member. 
Why,  did  he  not  confess  his  innocence? 
We  surely  cannot  try  him  after  that? 

President. 
Of  course  we  may  in  military  trials; 
In  civil  life,  I  grant  you  we  may  not; 
But  on  court  martial,  when  the  prisoner 
Says  'not  guilty' — 'tis  much  the  same  as  ^guilty,' 
And  scarcely  any  further  proof's  required. 

3d  Member. 
See,  now,  how  excellent  the  system  is! 

5th  Member. 
I  yield  to  you;  but  would  have  sworn,  apart 
From  your  enlightenment,  'not  guilty'  meant. 
The  prisoner,  not  having  heard  the  proofs. 
Confessed  his  innocence. 

Coke. 

The  first  witness 
Is  a  'Longshoreman  (as  they  call  themselves,) 
A  late  recruit  into  the  Conscript  Corps, 
Who  being  sworn,  will  give  his  testimony. 

President. 
Let  him  proceed. 

76 


1st  ^Longshoreman. 

Last  evening,  it  was, 
Partner  and  me  passed  by  the  Sea-Cove, 
On  the  *Wild  Duck,'  and— 

President. 

Both  on  one  wild  duck! 
Impossible ! 

Coke. 
His  boat,  so  named;  proceed. 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
And  on  the  beach  we  see  the  prisoner, 
And  another — a  woman — 

President. 
What  was  the  other  woman's  name? 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
The  woman's  name,  I  heard,  was  Mima  Queen : 
Mind  ye,  I  do  not  say  it  was;  I  hearn  so. 
They  two  was  liftin'  in  a  skift  a  dead  man — 

President. 
And  did  you  ask  the  dead  man  for  his  name? 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
Nay;  nathur  did  he  tell  us  he  were  dead — 

President. 
How  then  did  you  two  find  it  out? 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
Why  by  th'  appearance  of  his  looks — 
The  man  and  woman  lift  him  in  the  skift, 
And  row  him  off  to  bury  him,  I  s'pose: 
The  dead  man  was  Lamoir;  both  me  and  partner 
Had  knew  him  well,  and  see  him  oft-an-over. 
Clarence  Fauntleroy — who  yonder  sets — 
Was  the  man  who  uplift  him  from  the  beach. 
And  carry  him  away :  and  that  is  all 
I  know. 

Coke. 
And  saw  you  any  box,  or  papers? 
77 


Randal. 
[Aside]     He's  getting  too  inquisitive  for  me! 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
No  box,  nor  papers — nothing  but  a  corpse. 

Coke. 
No  names  were,  by  you,  heard  pronounced? 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
No  names  were  called :  when  they  had  rowed  away. 
We  went  back  thah,  and  see  upon  the  beach, 
The  print  the  dead  man  made  upon  the  sand. 
And  found  a  curious  Stone  near  thah. 
Which  them  two  may  have  dropped  upon  the 

beach. 
With  writins  on  it,  and  a  name. 
Coke. 

Whose  name? 
1st  'Longshoreman. 
The   writins   I   forget:   the   name   was    *Randal 
Glaive.' 

Randal. 
[Wildly.  ]   Great  God !  if  it  could  be  the  dead  could 

rise. 
To  burst  the  walled  grave's  environments. 
And  unimprisoned,  walk  this  earth  again, 
I  should  rejoice  to  see  Fairfax  Lamoir 
Break  from  his  sleep  of  death,  or  doom — 
Rejoice?  'tis  said:  rejoice!     Hell  do  thy  worst! 
I  say  rejoice !  I  should  rejoice  I  rejoice  ! 

Coke. 
What  interruption's  this?     Guard  do  your  duty! 

1st  Guardsman. 
Room  at  the  door!  the  Corporal  has  fainted. 

President. 
'Tis  plainly  a  contempt  of  court ! 

Coke. 
Let  him  be  taken  hence :  witness  proceed : 
Where  is  this  stone? 

78 


1st  ^Longshoreman. 
My  comrade  has  it,  Cap*n. 
And  now  I've  told  you  all  Ifknow  to  tell. 

President. 
It  is  enough;  we're  ready  to  convict. 

Coke. 
The  court  will  now  retire  for  consultation. 

[Exeunt,  President,  and  members  of  Court  Mar- 
tial. ] 
Meanwhile,  the  Guard  remove  the  prisoner, 
And  we  will  strike  this  tent,  no  longer  needed. 
And  back  to  camp,  to  wait  on  Colonel  Matthews. 

[Exeunt  omnes.  ] 


Scene  II 

Tollhouse:  outer  room;  Present:  Cas'par  and  Mima. 

[Cry  outside.] 
Gate!    HeUo  Gate! 

Caspar. 
There  Mima!  run  to  the  gate  quickly,  while  I 
put  away  this  one  hundred  thousand  dollar  Con- 
federate Bond! 

Mima. 
Father,  do  I  look  nice  enough.?     My  hair  has 
fallen  down — what  shall  I  do? 

Voice  outside. 
Gate  here!     Gate! 

Caspar. 
Why  Mima  dear,  there's  a  whole  company  of 
them.     I  hear  them  talking — run  child,  run ! 

[Exit  Mima.  ] 

Now  I  will  not  go  to  that  door  at  all,  or  I  shall, 

in  common  politeness,  be  compelled  to  ask  them 

in  to  dinner — ^the  whole  of  them — when,  upon  my 

word,  there's  but  three  beans  in  the  house,  and 

79 


two  ounces  of  cold  hominy,  and  one  drachm  of 
cold  middling.  I  bought  these  for  Confederate 
money,  this  morning,  at  a  bargain.  Let  me  see; 
here  is  the  memorandum:  three  beans  at  ten  dol- 
lars each,  thirty  dollars;  one  drachm  of  middling 
or  breakfast  bacon,  at  five  dollars  the  pennyweight ; 
two  ounces  of  cold  hominy  at  forty  dollars  the 
ounce,  eighty  dollars;  there  now's  a  dinner  for  the 
king,  with  only  an  expenditure  of  one  hundred 
dollars  of  the  people's  money !  Only  one  hundred 
dollars  of  national  faith  pledged  for  such  a  meal 
as  that!  What  an  art  this  Finance  is!  Caleb! 
Caleb!  Caleb!  how  much  am  I  indebted  to  thee! 
Jones!  Jones!  Jones!  what  a  profound  teacher  of 
the  laws  of  currency! 

[Enter  Mima.] 

My  child,  your  cheeks  are  flushed,  what  is  the 
matter? 

Mima. 
Impudent  thing! 

Caspar. 

What  is  it,  my  daughter.?   What  is  the  diflSculty, 
or,  differently  expressed,  what  ails  you? 
Mima. 

O,  nothing  seriously;  only  that  Colonel  Mat- 
thews, presuming  upon  his  rank,  never  fails  to  sur- 
feit me  with  flattery,  and  even  offered  to  kiss  me ! 
Impudence! 

Caspar. 

Well,  when  he  passes  next,  I  will  go  myself,  and 
let  the  upstart  know  he  is  dealing  with  a  gentle- 
man's daughter — one  whose  mother  was  a  Fitz- 
burg,  and  her  grandmother  a  Forrester! 
Mima. 

O,  do  not  worry.  Father;  I  do  not  mind  him;  he 
was  perfectly  gentlemanly  about  it. 
80 


Caspar. 
But  I  do  mind  him,  and  he  shall  hear  from  me, 
if  he  pass  again. 

What  about  the  toll,  my  child? 

Mima. 
There  were  forty -five  horses,  and  he  told  me  to 
charge  it  to  Jeff.  Davis. 

Caspar. 

Very  well,  hand  me  my  daybook,  and  I  will 
make  the  entry. 

[Writes  in  his  daybook.] 

By  the  way,  Mima,  I  wonder  if  these  two  men 
are  honest,  Jeff  Davis,  and  Abe  Lincoln.^  I  have 
a  large  account  against  each  of  them — ^not  less 
than  a  half  a  million  of  dollars  apiece,  in  Confed- 
erate money.  You  do  not  suppose  there  is  any 
danger  of  their  repudiating  a  just  debt  like  that, 
do  you? 

Mima. 

I  am  sure,  I  do  not  know.  Papa;  stranger  things 
have  happened. 

Caspar. 

I  did  not  suppose  you  knew,  my  dear;  but  what 
do  you  think — what  is  your  belief,  opinion,  judg- 
ment, surmise,  inference,  prediction,  predication, 
prognostication,  guess,  reckonmg,  fancy,  or  cal- 
culation— which  is  the  same  thing,  there  being  no 
difference  in  their  several  meanings?  Do  you 
not  think  the  Constitutions  reprehend  repudia- 
tion? 

Mima. 

My  opinion  is  that  if  the  Constitutions  authorize 
the  presidents  to  pay  toll,  it  should  be  paid  as  a 
Constitutional  debt;  and,  if  otherwise,  then  it  is 
obvious  that  toll  cannot  be  paid  by  them,  under 
the  Constitutions;  and  also  my  belief  is  that  I  love 
81 


a  dear  old  gentleman  very  much,  and  must  go  and 
prepare  a  Confederate  dinner  for  him. 

[Exit  Mima.  ] 
Caspar  [solus] 
She  is  right  on  the  Constitutional  point,  beyond 
any  question.  By  the  way,  what  a  smart  girl  it  is ! 
but  a  perfect  little  infidel  on  finance.  Well,  I've 
made  up  my  mind  to  one  thing:  she  shall  never 
marry  a  man  who  would  consent  to  exchange  Con- 
federate Bonds  for  gold  or  silver !  Never !  Of  the 
two  nuisances,  silver  is  the  least,  but  is  bad  enough. 
When  I  give  that  child  away  at  the  altar,  it  must 
be  to  a  man  that  believes  in  my  financial  policy, 
or  Caleb  Jones's,  which  is  the  same  thing — 

[A  knock  is  heard.] 
Come  in! 

[Enter  Uncle  Jess.] 
Uncle  Jess. 
Bress  yo'  soul!  Mast.  Kyasper,  Mast.  Clarence 
gone  and  giv'  he  self  up!  I  thought  I  raise  dat 
chile  right,  de  best  I  could,  cordin'  to  's  natral 
understandin';  but  he  done  give  he  self  up  to  be 
shot!  And  dey  gwine  to  shoot  him  sho' — dey 
ain't  got  no  better  sense! 

[Enter  Caleb  Jones.] 
Caleb. 
O  Caspar!  this  news  astounds  me;  we  must  save 
your  young  friend;  what  can  be  done.^^ 
Caspar. 
O !  that  he'd  stuck  to  our  own  currency,  and  not 
gone  forth  after  foreign  gold ! 

[Enter  Mima.] 
Caleb. 
Mima,  your  friend  (and  mme  for  your   sake), 
Clarence  Fauntleroy,  has  given  himself  up,  to  be 
tried  upon  a  false  charge  of  murdering  one  Fair- 
fax Lamoir,  who,  it  is  charged,  was  slain  upon  this 


coast  while  bearing  dispatches  for  the  Govern- 
ment. 

Mima. 

Impossible!  Impossible!  why,  Lamoir  is  not 
dead  at  all!  Or  if  dead,  has  died  since  yesterday 
morning;  which  is  indeed  most  likely,  as  he  was  in 
great  extremity  by  wounds  whose  origin  he  was  in 
too  sore  a  strait  to  explain.  Clarence  and  I  fomid 
him — 

Caleb. 

I  know  it  all  from  Jesse,  who  has  managed  by 
some  stratagem  to  commmiicate  with  Clarence. 
Mima. 

But  is  he  then  in  danger .f*  Then  will  I  not 
linger  here!  where  may  I  find  him!  Come  Jesse, 
lead  the  way! 

Caleb. 

Be  patient  now  a  moment  while  I  lay  down  our 
plans — 

Caspar. 
Give  's  a  theory !  Give 's  a  system ! 
O  Caleb !  a  scheme ! 

Caleb. 

Listen  now:  Instructed  by  Jesse  how  to  seek,  I 
will  find  Lamoir,  if  still  alive,  and  take  his  dying 
declaration;  if  dead,  I'll  get  the  testimony  of 
his  nurse,  and  if  possible  procure  her  presence; 
meanwhile  you  must  anticipate  the  action  of  the 
Court-martial;  they  will  surely  find  him  guilty 
proof  or  no  proof:  such  courts  are  organized  to 
convict.  The  sentence  cannot  be  carried  out, 
however,  without  the  approval  of  the  General 
commanding.  You,  Mima,  must  hurry  to  Cha- 
fin's  Bluff,  where  General  Wise  encamps,  and 
should  the  sentence  have  reached  there,  make 
your  statement,  and  urge  delay;  and  Caspar,  do 
you  see  Col.  Matthews,  and  pray  his  disapproval 
83 


of  the  finding;  or  at  all  events  procure  postpone- 
ment till  we  can  marshal  our  proofs  of  Fauntleroy 's 
innocence.  Not  a  moment's  to  be  lost;  let  each 
address  himself  to  his  task. 
Mima. 
I  will  go  away  at  once;  Jesse  shall  accompany 
and  guide  me ! 

Jesse. 
Dat  he  will,  chile;  de  Lord  know  he  gwine  wid 
you,  sho' ! 

Caspar. 
I  will  present  Col.  Matthews  with  a  gilt-edged 
copy  of  my  essay  on  the  Confederate  Funding 
Act :  that  will  melt  a  heart  of  stone ! 

Caleb. 
Let  us  away! 

[Exeunt  in  different  directions.  ] 


Scene  III 

Camp  *  Twelve  Oaks,*  tent  of  Col.  Matthews;  the 
Court  re-assembled;  Coke;  Matthews  and  Staff; 
Fauntleroy;  Randal  Glaive,  as  Sergeant  John- 
son; Guard. 

Coke. 
The  evidence  being  now  all  in,  the  tent 
For  consultation  will  be  forthwith  cleared, 
And  verdict  given  as  by  law  ordained. 

Randal. 
Had  I  permission  of  the  Court  and  Judges, 
And  yours.  Judge  Advocate,  I  would  this  much 
Suggest;  the  testimony  has  disclosed 
There  was,  in  this  most  foul,  unnatural  crime. 
An  accomplice  not  yet  to  trial  brought; 
I  would  propose  a  squad  be  sent  t'  arrest. 
And  hither  bring  this  woman,  Mima  Queen. 
84 


Coke. 
We  have  no  time  to  linger  here  on  this; 
My  information  urges  us  to  haste; 
And  correspond  my  orders. 

FauntUroy. 
Ye  Soldiers,  Judges,  Officers,  and  men ! 
I  call  you  witness  that  I  have  not  asked 
For  any  hearing  in  mine  own  behalf, 
Albeit  that  my  life  hung  in  the  scale. 
Accused  of  murdering  my  bosom  friend. 
Who,  though  assaulted,  is  not  dead  at  all. 
Or  if  he  be,  has  died  quite  recently, 
Of  injuries  in  which  I  had  no  hand — 

President. 
Come,  cut  it  short!     Shall  it  be  said  the  culprit 
Has  made  the  only  speech  in  his  conviction.'^ 

Coke. 
The  time  is  very  urgent,  and  admits 
Of  no  delay :  what  further  needs  be  said. 
Let  it  be  spoken  quickly  and  in  nature, 
Diverse  from  comment  on  the  evidence. 
The  prisoner  cannot  testify. 

3d  Member. 

Mightn't  it 
Be  written  out,  and  at  the  funeral  read.'^ 

2d  Member. 
I  do  not  understand  the  law  permits 
A  man  to  speak  before  his  execution; 
After,  the  question  is — '  What  hast  to  say 
Why   sentence  ought   not   to   have    been    pro- 
nounced.'^' 

Jfih  Member. 
It  is  so  with  your  jury;  but  this  man 
Is  not  a  soldier. 

3d  Member. 
That's  true :  were  he  a  soldier, 
He  could  not  by  the  martial  law  be  tried: 
85 


Unless,  indeed,  in  South  America. 
In  this  country,  civiHahs  only  can — 
And  women — by  the  military  law 
Be  punished,  hung,  and  executed. 

Fauntleroy. 
O,  Judges !  for  the  love  of  Christ  above. 
And  as  you  hope  redemption  by  His  blood. 
Hear  me  but  briefly — for  one  moment  only — 
Not  for  myself,  or  life  (I  do  protest) : 
But  for  a  woman,  pure  and  innocent. 
Most  falsely  charged  with  crime — 

Randal. 
I  have  suggestion  made  to  further  justice : 
Which,  as  to  me  it  seemed,  was  worthy  thought: 
I  offer  now  to  bring  within  your  power. 
Without  delay,  th'  accomplice  of  this  crime. 
You  have  but  little  noted  in  this  war 
The  power  of  woman,  and  the  part  she  plays, 
Not  to  foresee  with  moral  certainty. 
That  if  this  man  have  intercept  dispatches 
Whose  value  to  Confederate  arms  appeared, 
He  has  as  surely  trusted  them  to  her — 
His  accomplice,  whom  I've  already  named : 
Speak  but  the  word,  and  send  a  guard  with  me. 
And  I  will  answer  for  her  presence  here. 

Fauntleroy. 
Again  I  do  implore  you  hear  me  speak! 
This  man's  malevolence  I  cannot  fathom : 
Perchance  'tis  misconception  on  his  part — 
For  that  Lamoir  we  found  upon  the  beach, 
And  bore  to  shelter,  I  do  not  deny : 
Or  that  since  then  he's  doubtless  gone  to  rest: 
But  of  the  crime,  or  misadventure  else. 
If  such  it  were,  whereby  he  met  his  wounds, 
I  nothing  knew  nor  learned — 

President. 
These  imprecations  have  no  manner  o'  weight 
86 


With  such  an  able  court  as  this,  composed 
Of  strictly  military  men,  and  bent 
On  justice  sternly  executed ! 

5th  Member. 

Ay,  sternly! 
And  'gainst  all  conscience  of  your  civil  law ! 

Coke. 
We  waste  the  day !     Attention  guard !     Remove 
The  prisoner,  and  let  the  tent  be  cleared ! 

Fauntleroy. 
Then  be  it  so !  and  may  the  Great,  Just  God 
To  whom  I  now  appeal  to  vindicate 
My  innocence,  protect  the  maiden  whom 
This  false  accuser  vilifies;  else  may 
His  retribution  and  his  curse  pursue — 

[Exeunt  Guard  with  Fauntleroyy  and  all  except 
Coke,  and  the  Court.] 
President. 
How  say  you.  Judges !  is  the  prisoner 
Guilty  as  charged  or  innocent? 


And  I  concur! 


1st  and  2d  Members. 

Guilty! 
3d  Member. 

Jiih  Member, 
Aflirmative ! 


5th  Member. 

O,  yes! 
President. 
The  sentence  is  unanimously  rendered. 
The  prisoner  is  guilty  of  the  charge 
As  specified.     The  penalty  is  death, 
At  such  time  as  the  Colonel  appoint. 
Let  Coke  commxmicate  our  finding  to  him: 
I  solemnly  adjourn  this  Court  for  dinner! 

87 


Coke. 
Should  Matthews  sign  this  sentence  with  approval 
He'll  forward  it  to  General  Wise  commanding. 
Should  messenger  be  needed,  I'll  select 
As  such,  our  Sergeant  Johnson,  knowing  well 
His  energy  and  rapid  movement — 
On  his  return,  if  still  the  time  allow. 
He  shall  be  sent  to  seize,  and  hither  bring 
This  woman,  Mima  Queen,  who  by  this  Court 
Being  still  to  try,  the  same  is  not  disband. 
But  held  already  organized  for  trial 
Of  all  concerned  in  this  most  foul  misdeed — 
Till  then,  address  us  to  our  several  duties. 

[Exeunt  in  different  directions.] 


ACT  V 

Scene  I 

Chafiris  Bluff,  South  of  Richmond ,  overlooking  the 
James;  at  the  door  of  General  Wise's  tent;  pres- 
ent. General  Henry  A.   Wise,  and  Colonel 
Tabby  his  adjutant;  tents  covering  the  height; 
effect  historical. 

Wise. 
Read  me  that  of  Sir  William  Jones  again. 
Tabb  [reading.] 

'What  constitutes  a  State  ? ' 
Wise. 

That's  wrong:  th'  accent 
Is  on  the  middle  word :  what  constitutes! 
The  state  exists — is  governed,  well  or  ill; 
But  wherein  lies  her  substantive  of  being — 
Her  power,  beauty,  strength  and  constitution; 
What  constitutes  the  State?     Commence  again. 
Tabb. 
*What  constitutes  a  State? 
Not  highrais'd  battlement,  or  labor'd  mound, 

Thick  wall,  or  moated  gate: 
Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crown*d; 
Not  bays  and  broad  arm'd  ports, 
Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  rich  navies  ride: 

Not  stars,  and  spangled  courts. 
Where  lowbrow'd  baseness  wafts  perfume  to  pride : 
No!     Men,  highminded  men, 
89 


With  powers  as  far  above  dull  brutes  imbued, 

In  forest,  brake  or  den, 
As  hearts  excel  cold  rocks,  and  brambles  rude; 

Men,  who  their  duties  know. 
But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  main- 
tain. 

Prevent  the  longaim'd  blow. 
And  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain! 

These  constitute  a  State !' 
Wise. 
Ay,  these  do  constitute :  and  *Sov'reign  Law,' 
I  think  the  poet  adds,  if  I  remember  rightly — 
(The  Fundamental  Law,  or  Constitution) — 
*Sits  empress,  crowning  good,  repressing  ill.' 

Tabb. 
With  deference,  there  seems  to  me  a  question 
Behind  all  these  of  no  less  vital  import : 
These  constitute:  but  what  preserves  the  State? 
For  what  avails  the  State's  construction  mere. 
Without  a  force  preservative  somewhere. 
Which  gives  to  Law  its  power  to  continue. 
And  to  the  mass  some  principle  to  guide. 
Whereby  their  aim  conserves  the  general  good. 
Through  long  succession  of  their  civil  rights. 
From  year  to  year,  through  age  to  ages  still! 

Wise. 
The  poet  leaves  unsung,  you  would  suggest. 
This  question ;  what  preserves  a  State ?     I'll  answer : 
Great  deeds;  the  monumental  deeds  of  fame. 
Which  history  says  shall  never  be  forgot; 
Great  thoughts,  like  bolts  of  electricity. 
That  strike  their  mark,  and  rive  where'er  they 

strike; 
Great  aims,  high  o'er  the  heads  of  common  men, 
Like  shipmasts  in  the  van  of  toihng  fleets. 
Or  banners  planted  on  far  battlements; 
Great  faith,  which  baflfled  oft,  is  not  reproved, 
90 


But  presses  on  to  consummation  sm-e; 
Great  love  of  truth,  to  keep  the  conscience  square, 
As  bolts  the  dial  level  to  the  sun; 
Great  enterprise,  great  energy,  great  action; 
Great  courage,  which  fears  not  to  undertake, 
And  having  undertaken,  will  achieve. 
Not  waiting  to  be  fanned  by  fortune's  wing, 
But  hewing  with  a  godUke  arm  through  fate; 
Great  faults,  from  error  wrested  by  the  force 
Of  will,  and  made  subservient  to  virtue; 
Great  love,  broad  as  the  race,  deep  as  their  fate. 
And  beautiful  as  the  arc  of  God  in  heaven — 
These  make  Greed  Men:  Great  Men  preserve  the 
Statel 

[Enter  an  Orderly.] 
Orderly. 
A  person  wishes,  at  the  door,  to  see  you. 

Wise. 
I  am  engaged ! 

[Exit  Orderly.  ] 
The  times  are  out  of  joint; 
And  art,  and  eloquence,  and  poesy 
Foregone,  the  fair  humanities  take  flight — 

[Re-enter  Orderly.] 
Orderly. 
The  person  stays  to  see  you  still ! 

Wise. 
Tell  him  to  go  to  hell! 

Orderly. 

It  is  a  woman. 
Wise. 
Tell  her  to  go  to  heav'n ! 

By  all  the  gods! 
And  by  the  memory  of  Troy  and  Helen, 
Mark  Antony,  and  Egypt's  sorceress — 
The  frail  Aspasia,  and  th'  immortal  Greek; 
The  enemy,  if  he  desire  my  arms, 
91 


Let  him  but  send  a  woman  who  can  weep, 
And  she  shall  have  my  sword  or  see  my  back ! 
I  will  retreat :  look  you  to  her. 

[Exit  ivithin  the  tent:  Enter  Mima   Queen. 

Mima, 
General ! 

I  come  before  you  as  a  suppliant 
For  one  to  me  endeared  from  youth,  although 
Bound  by  no  tie  save  that  of  simple  love, 
Confessed  with  mutual  pledge  of  constancy. 
And  who  upon  a  false  report  arraigned 
And  by  a  military  court  convict. 
And  by  false  swearing  thus  encompassed  round, 
Will  soon,  unless  your  mercy  intervene, 
Be  executed  in  some  dreadful  form. 

Tabb. 
Of  what  command,  or  regiment  is  he? 

Mima. 
Of  none;  he  is  a  simple  citizen: 
But  yet  by  espionage  upon  the  foe. 
And  bringing  information  to  our  lines. 
He  has  achieved  much  service  to  the  cause, 
And  with  the  signal  corps  stands  in  repute — 

Tabb. 
His  name? 

Mima. 
His  name  is  Clarence  Fauntleroy. 

Tabb. 
You  are  too  late !  the  General  has  acted 
Upon  his  case,  and  countersigned  approval. 
One  Sergeant  Johnson  brought  the  verdict  here. 
And  said  there  was  great  haste,  as  the  command 
Was  on  the  eve  of  striking  tents  to  march. 
Two  hours  since,  the  sentence  was  approved. 
And  Johnson  bore  it  hence, 
92 


Mima. 
My  God !  and  is  this  true,  that  you 
Have  with  indecorous,  indecent  haste, 
A  warrant  given  to  this  ruthless  murder? 
And  you  a  general !  with  sacred  trust 
To  guard  the  citizen,  uphold  the  law, 
A  thousand  plagues  upon  such  generals — 
O!  me,  O!  me,  O!  me — 

Is  there  no  hope? 
Tabb. 
I'm  not,  my  maid,  the  General,  at  all, 
But  have  authority  to  speak  for  him — 

Mima. 
Away,  then !  I  will  see  the  General ! 
Conduct  me  to  him,  as  you  are  a  man, 
A  gentleman — a  soldier — or  a  Christian! 
How  can  you  slay  a  private  citizen. 
By  martial  court — a  travesty  of  justice! 

[Re-enter  Wise.] 

Wise. 
From  out  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  flows 
True  wisdom;  and  this  girl  has  smote  the  rock; 
If  he  was  not  in  mihtary  service, 
And  by  no  jury  tried,  'twas  not  'due  processV 
And  by  the  glory  of  a  risen  God — 
By  sacrifice  of  priests,  apostles,  prophets. 
Evangelists,  and  martyrs,  saints  and  druids — 
By  centuries  of  English  liberty — 
By  all  the  blazonry  oifleur  de  lis. 
Sunburst,  and  oriflamme,  and  tri-color — 
By  birth-throes,  one  by  one,  of  Liberty, 
Impregned  by  chartered  Freedom,  as  her  god — 
The  magna  charta,  and  the  bill  of  rights, 
And  writ  of  person,  wrested  from  the  King; 
By  our  traditions,  struggles,  ancestors — 
And  all  the  travail  of  the  patriot-fathers — 
By  burning  plowshares  over  which  they  trod — 
93 


And  by  that  solemn  Declaration,  which 

Uprearing  its  imperishable  shaft 

In  history,  is  only  incomplete 

In  this;  because  it  is  inscription  all. 

And  must  its  marble  find  within  the  breast 

Of  imiversal,  and  admiring  man — 

By  Adams,  Mason,  Henry,  and  by  him, 

Who  from  the  morning's  womb,  autochthonous, 

Sprang  godlike,  as  a  child  of  dawn,  to  make 

His  country  free — Immortal  Washington — 

May  God  do  so  to  me,  and  more — when  I 

Forget  the  Constitution  of  my  country! 

^Take  you  the  pen  and  write: 

[Tabb  writes  to  the  dicta- 
tion. ] 
*Let  him  be  silenced,  who  would  silence  law! 
The  Constitution  still  is  paramount; 
Therefore  you  will  release  by  special  order. 
Forthwith,  the  prisoner  Clarence  Fauntleroy, 
And  leave  the  civil  courts  to  deal  with  him 
By  trial  of  his  peers  and  vicinage; 
And  this  by  order  of  the  General 
Commanding  this  Department: 

'Henry  A.  Wise, 
'Brig.   General.' 

Now  countersign  as  adjutant,  and  let 
The  dove  o'ertake  the  raven,  if  she  can ! 
Come,  Httle  maid,  no  thanks  to  me — thank  God ! 

[Raises  Mima  who  has  fallen  at  his  knees.] 
Now  put  that  on  my  tomb :  one  act  today. 
Which,  were  it  once  recorded  in  a  book. 
The  sponge  of  time  should  not  prevail  against! 
[Exit — re-entering  his  tent.     Tabb,  who  has  been 
loriting,  hands  Mima  a  package.  ] 
Mima. 
Thank  God?    I  will!  that  one  unconquered  man 
94 


Adorns  the  age,  to  vindicate  His  plan — 
And  thanking,  pray  that  He  may  wing  my  flight, 
To  save  my  love  from  death,  despair,  and  night ! 
[Exit  Mima;   Tabb  retires  into  the 

tent.] 


Scene  II 

Codst  of  the  Bay,  the  same  as  in  Act  I, 

[Mima  and  Uncle  Jess  haul  up  in  a  Skiff.] 

Mima. 
Alack-a-daisy !  Uncle  Jess,  angel 
Of  my  journey,  and  genie  of  my  fate, 
I  feel  so  happy  that  we've  made  this  land. 
That  I  could  almost  push  you  in  the  Bay! 

Uncle  Jess. 
Noo-hoon ! 

Child,  don't  you  go  apushin'  me ! 
I  got  to  *carry  you  a  good  mile  yit. 
And  dat  afo'  de  clock  knock  ten. 

Mima. 
Now,  Jesse,  do  not  frighten  me  again; 
It  was  a  weary,  blackbrowed  night  we  spent, 
And  I  have  never  closed  these  heavy  eyes 
Between  the  dusk  of  eve,  and  dawn  of  mom. 
Come,  never  mark  the  skiff — let  us  away ! 

[Enter  Randal  Glaive  as  Sergeant  Johnson  with 

a  squad  of  soldiers,  the  two  Longshoremen,  as 

Conscripts,  among  them.] 

Randal. 

Ah!  here  they  are!  Surround  the  boat,  and  seize  it! 

[The  Soldiers  seize  the  skiff.] 

*So  used  in  Virginia  for  conduct,  by  all  classes. 
95 


Mima. 
What  means  this  cowardly  assault  upon  me — 
A  lonely  woman,  without  protection  save 
Her  sole  companion — ^this  old  faithful  slave ! 

Randal. 
I  will  explain  to  you  your  own  misfortune. 

[Jump.s  in  the  boat.  ] 
But  let  the  guard  retire;  and  you,  old  man, 
Go  with  the  squad. 

Jess. 
Noo-hoon ! 

Indeed,  I  couldn't — ^not  for  nuffin ! 
I  made  a  promise  not  to  leave  dat  child — 

Randal. 
Guard,  take  him  off! 

[They  approach  Jesse.] 
Mima. 
Go  with  them,  Jess;  'tis  but  a  few  steps  off; 
I  shall  be  near,  and  you  in  sight. 

[Jesse  retires  uoith  the  Guard,  gesticulating.  ] 
Now,  Sir,  in  haste  explain  this  grave  detention; 
Moments  are  life  and  death;  say  what  you  wish. 
And  let  me  go ! 

Randal. 
That  you  have  heard  of  Fauntleroy's  conviction 
I  do  not  doubt,  nor  that  you  know  him  guiltless; 
But  your  own  danger  may  have  escaped  your  ears; 
The  proof  against  him  impHcated  you. 
As  you  were  with  him,  when  'twas  said  he  slew 
Lamoir;  false  you  will  say.^^  no  doubt  of  that, 
But  not  the  less  in  consequences  fearful. 
They  now  demand  your  trial  by  court-martial. 
That  your  conviction  may  companion  his. 
Feigning  to  swell  indignant  at  the  crime, 
I  volunteered  to  go  in  search  of  you. 
That  I  might  warn  you  secretly  of  danger. 
And  take  you  to  a  safe  and  sure  retreat. 
96 


But  you  are  wrestling  with  some  secret  passion. 
Why  this  impassioned  haste — explain  yourself? 

Mima  [drawing  a  package  from  her  bosom.  ] 
I  have  a  package  here  for  Fauntleroy, 
That  nullifies  the  finding  of  the  court, 
Which  so  unjustly  sentenced  him  to  death; 
This  gives  him  life  again,  and  liberty. 
O !  do  not  stay  me  here !     You  say  you've  come 
With  guard,  and  order  to  enforce  my  presence; 
Obey  your  orders !     Take  me  quickly  hence, 
And  to  the  spot  where  Fauntleroy  was  tried — 
Tis  aU  I  ask— 

Randal. 
But  think  of  your  own  danger; 
*Twould  be  to  lead  you  to  your  sacrifice — 

Mima. 
Nay,  but  I  ask — beseech  it — ^pray  for  it! 
I  count  as  nothing  my  own  risk,  or  danger: 
Let  us  away !  he  may  be  dragged  to  death, 
While  we  are  parleying. 

[Moves  toward  the  shore — Randal  intercepts  her.  ] 

Randal. 
We  have  full  time,  if  you  will  only  hear  me — 
I  can  save  him;  and,  what  to  me  is  more. 
Ten  thousand  multiples  of  more, 
I  can  save  you. 

Do  you  not  know  me,  Mima? 
I  am  the  chaplain,  Fehx  Moss;  this  garb 
Assumed  for  you;  since  hearing  of  your  danger 
(Arising  from  the  source  I've  just  explained), 
The  thought  of  saving  you  has  taken  hold 
Upon  my  soul ;  I  love  you  more  than  life ! 

Mima. 
Away!    Talk  not  to  me  of  love! 

Randal. 
But,  darling,  hear  me  just  a  moment  more. 
For  your  own  sake;  if  not  for  yours,  for  his: 
97 


Although  your  manner  is  as  cold  as  winter, 
Your  presence  is  as  welcome  to  my  soul, 
As  frost  to  fever-stricken  cities  is ! 
I  can  save  Fauntleroy;  I  will  dispatch 
Yoiu*  package  by  a  chosen  messenger — 

Mima. 
No,  no!    No  hands  but  these, 
Weak  though  they  be,  and  tremulous  with  doubt. 
Must  bear  this  casket  to  its  destiny — 

Randal. 
Hear  me;  select  the  messenger  yourself; 
Be  it  your  faithful  body  servant,  Jesse, 
And  let  the  guard  return  with  him  to  camp ; 
They  have  the  countersign;  you  have  it  not. 
And  lacking  it,  your  enterprise  is  fruitless ; 
I  will  not  further  you,  nor  take,  nor  send, 
Into  the  cruel,  rav'nous  jaws  of  death ! 

Mima. 
What  would  you  have  mefdo? 

Randal. 
Speak  but  the  word — ^that  you  will  fly  with  me. 
And  I  will  send  your  Jesse  instantly — 
In  time — all  safe — and  Fauntleroy  is  free ! 

Mima. 
Never! 

I  do  not  love  you — dare  not  fly ! 

Randal  [looks  at  his  watch.  ] 
Then  you  will  doom  your  Fauntleroy  to  death ! 
I  will  recall  the  guard,  and  here  remain. 
Until  the  time  appointed  has  expired ! 
I  will  save  you,  though  you  condemn  your  friend ! 

Mima. 
O,  God! 

And  is  there,  then,  no  way  but  this? 
Randal. 
But  forty  minutes  by  thelwatch  are  left ! 


Mima. 
Then  have  it  as  you  say !     Send  off  the  pardon — 
O,  quick!  and  heaven  speed,  Hke  light  or  sound, 
Your  messenger. 

[Hands  him  Wise's  countermand.  ] 
Let  Jesse  take  it — faithful  Jesse! 
And  Thou,  O  God !  who  knowest  all  our  thoughts, 
And  sawest  motives,  when  Thou  madest  light 
Of  old,  more  plainly  than  the  soul  itself, 
Wherein  they  germinate :  forgive  this  step, 
If  pardon  it  should  need,  whereby  I  buy 
The  hfe  of  him  I  love — and  for  him  die ! 

Randal. 
Ah,  soon  upon  a  happier  coast  we'll  land. 
From  off  this  waste,  and  scuttled  scope  of  sand, 
And  then  I'll  win  your  love,  whate'er  betide. 
And  Mima,  won  from  death,  shall  be  my  bride ! 
Ho,  Guard !  advance ! 

[The  Guard  advances  to  the  prow  of  the  boat.  ] 
Attention !  Jesse,  your  mistress  not  enabled 
To  penetrate  our  lines  with  her  dispatch, 
Intrusts  it  to  your  care;  the  guard  will  go. 
And  see  you  safely  into  camp. 

[Randal  hands  Jesse  the  approved  sentence,  which 
he  has  dexterously  exchanged  for  the  counter- 
mand given  him  by  Mima.  ] 
Mima. 
Fly,  fly,  at  once,  my  faithful  Jess ! 
Tell  Clarence  he  will  never  see  me  more, 
But  all  my  heart  and  soul  are  with  him  still; 
Let  him  be  saved — enjoy  his  liberty; 
His  Mima  gives  her  life  to  set  him  free ! 

Randal. 
Guard,  into  camp — and  double-quick! 
Jess,  see  you  to  your  package  there ! 
'Shoremen,  advance  and  to  your  posts  at  once; 
You  are  relieved  from  Conscript-service  now, 
99 


Your  muskets  in  the  sea,  your  face  to  prow; 
Ha,  ha!  strike  out,  strike  fast,  across  the  Bay, 
Over  the  water  blue,  away,  away ! 

[Exeunt  in  appropriate  directions. 


Scene  III 

The  Sea-grotto,  as  in  Scene  I  of  Act  III. 

[A  boat  drawn  up,  with  Randal  and  the  two  ^Long- 
shoremen asleep;  Mima.] 

Mima. 
Ah,  well-a-day !  now  do  they  rest  in  sleep, 
Their  struggle  over  with  the  angry  waves, 
Which  rose  in  fury  to  the  very  welkin; 
I — only  I — defy  the  charms  of  sleep! 
M^  eyes  refuse  to  seal  their  fountains  up; 
Or,J  shut'  by  force,  they  leave  unclosed  the  gates 
Of  wakeful,  and  corroding,  anxious  thoughts. 
What  Was  there  in  this  old  familiar  coast. 
That  gave  us  shelter,  and  secure  retreat. 
When  every  Island,  girdled  with  its  foam 
Of  reefs,  and  breakers,  barred  us  at  arms-length? 
Was  it  that  I  have  loved  thy  sacred  soil. 
Dear  Mother,  so  that  the  dumb  elements 
Themselves  took  pity  on  my  state,  and  sat 
In  council  to  resist  my  exodus? 
That  I  have  purchased  a  most  noble  life — 
That  I  have  saved  my  love,  the  innocent — 
This  comforts  me.     Why  should  I  not  escape? 
Can  there  be  any  tie  of  conscience. 
Should  cable  my  unwilhng  spirit  here? 
No,  no!  the  sea  has  answered  this  already! 
Let  these  exhausted  'shoremen  sleep;  let  him 
100 


(Who    doubtless    loves     me)*    in   his   garments, 
drenched,  , .  /  ,  . , ,  J       - ,  >  V\  '> 

Repose;  I'll  leave  my  benisons,  and  seek 
My  father's  house. 

*  *  *  *     But  here's  a  package 

Fall'n  from  his  pocket  while  he  lay  asleep; 
I'll  place  it  on  his  breast; 

[Takes  up  the  countermand,  which  has  fallen 
from  Randal;  recognizes  it. 
God's  ministers  of  death !    What  have  we  here ! 
The  countermand? 

O  Pity!  Horror!  Vengeance! 
O,  Fiend!  that  didst  deceive  me,  and  betray! 
I  will  anticipate  the  law — 

[Takes  his  knife  from  his  breast.] 
I  will  repay. 
If  Clarence  Fauntleroy  has  died  (and  that. 
He  must  have  died,  this  perfidy  attests). 
So  shalt  thou  die,  his  murderer! 

[Enter  Jesse  from  shore,  and  catches  her  arm.  ] 
Jesse. 

Noo-hoon! 
Mima. 
What,  Jesse  here!     Clarence — is  he  alive? 
If  not,  release,  and  let  his  murderer  die ! 

Jesse. 
Noo-hoon !  dat  ain't  agwine  to  do  at  all. 
You  drap  dat  knife,  my  chile,  and  come  wid  me. 
[Carries  her  ashore  in  arms:  exeunt  in  the  cave. 
After  an  interval,  enter  Simpson    and    the 
Conscription  Detail.] 
Ralph. 
Easy,  my  men,  without  awaking  them! 
Seize  him !  seize  him !     Seize  Randal  Glaive! 
The  others  are  not  dangerous ! 

[They  fall  on  Randal,  and  disarm  him  after  a 
struggle.  ] 

101 


'**';•;  •    Randal. 

Whiit!    ^joiindtels!     Villains!    Rebel  cutthroats ! 

Ralph. 
Aha!  I  have  you  this  time  Randal  Glaive! 

Randal. 
Away,  you  dog !     I  talk  to  your  superiors ! 

Ralph. 
All  right !  I've  done  my  part,  now  let  the  rope 
Or  riflecrack,  converse  with  you,  for  me. 
I  say  you  'Shoremen  come  quickly  along. 
And  it  will  be  the  better  for  you  both. 
I've  but  to  blow  on  you  for  two  deserters. 
To  make  your  chances  to  be  shot  today, 
Almost  as  good  as  Randal  Glaive's! 

1st  *  Longshoreman. 
Come  Cap'n,  do  for  God's  sake  show  a  man 
A  chance ! 

M  'Longshoreman. 
Do  show  a  fellow  some  small  chance! 

Ralph. 
Be  quiet  then,  and  doublequick  to  camp — 
I  can  not  swear  I  saw  you  two  desert. 
And  if  you'll  promise  to  remain — all  right. 

1st  'Longshoreman. 
To'  God— 

Ralph. 
No  more !     Forward  my  men  to  camp ! 

[Exeunt.  ] 


102 


Scene  IV 

HaJl  in  the  Ruin^  same  as  in  Scene  III  of  Act  II. 

Present:  Fauntleroy,  under  guard;  Caspar  Queens- 
Members  of  the  Court  Martial;  Coke,  and 
some  officers;  Guard,  etc. 

Coke. 
The  Colonel,  although  absent  himself, 
(On  duty,  which  his  vigilance  demands). 
Has,  with  the  kindness  which  ennobles  him, 
Desired  to  gratify  the  prisoner. 
Young  Fauntleroy,  in  matter  of  a  whim 
He  has  conceived,  and  pressed  with  urgent  suit : 
He  wished  for  some  retreat,  wherein  to  calm 
His  thoughts,  and  make  his  prayerful  peace  with 

God: 
The  Colonel  thought  it  fit  to  send  him  here, 
Within  this  old  and  war-dismantled  ruin; 
A  spot  suggestive  of  his  cause  of  death; 
For  like  a  waste,  deserted  tenement. 
So  is  the  mind  that  virtue  has  abandoned. 
Moreover  this  also  has  been  yielded  him : 
That  just  before  the  fatal  hour  knells, 
(Which  has  been  fixed  for  one,  and  so  annoimced 
At  dress-parade,  in  presence  of  the  line). 
He  should  have  audience  of  the  oflScers, 
Who  bear  commission  in  the  regiment. 
And  so  'tis  ordered :  Sergeant,  bring  him  in ! 
[Exeunt  Sergeant  with  Guard.] 
President. 
I  pray  his  speech  be  very  short — I  hunger. 

1st  Member. 
It  needs  be  short;  for  no  true  gentleman 
Would  keep  men  waiting  when,  through  courtesy. 
They  do  attend  to  see  him  shot. 
lOS 


Sd  Member. 
I  have  not  tasted  brandy  since  eleven ! 

[Enter  Guards  with  Fauntleroy.] 
Fauntleroy, 
[Aside]     The   hatchway   open!     'Tis   strange! 

What  means  it? 
[Aloud]     Judges,  Officers,  and  Fellow-men! 
Condemned  to  death  on  unsubstantial  proof, 
Without  that  calm,  deliberate,  impartial, 
Judicial  balancing  of  testimony, 
Whereby  is  glorified  the  name  of  law. 
And  justified  its  punishments  as  sanctions ; 
To  front  you  once  again  before  I  die, 
Is  mine :  not  that  I'd  importune  for  life, 
In  any  mode  unmanly,  or  amiss : 
But  yet,  I  teU  you,  I  am  innocent; 
Your  sentence  an  unrighteous  one; 
This  can  I  say,  and  will  say,  to  the  last ! 
When  said,  I've  finished  for  mine  own  behalf: 
But  for  another,  I  have  something  yet : 
Which,  by  your  leave  and  patience,  I  will  urge; 
I  speak  now  for  a  woman :  let  the  cause 
Awake  to  life  your  sensibilities! 
You  cannot  treat  the  woman,  as  you  may 
The  man:  and  why?  because  she  is  not  man! 
We  cannot  refute  God  by  sophistry; 
That  treatment  which  to  man  may  be  excused, 
In  times  of  blood,  wherein  a  holocaust 
Is  each  day  offered  at  the  shrine  of  war — 
Brought  home  to  woman,  finds  no  such  relief 
From  crime,  because  of  war,  or  civil  strife; 
No  war  legitimately  murders  woman; 
Her  life  upon  that  issue  is  not  staked : 
I  tell  you  now  that  Mima  Queen  is  guiltless: 
Let  her  alone!  I  care  not  for  myself: 
But  for  her.  Officers !  again  I  urge 
Beware  of  touching  woman's  sacred  life ! 
104 


Else  history  will  hear  of  it,  and  hearing, 
Will  never  spare  to  publish  to  the  world. 
And  after  times;  and,  be  he  who  he  may, 
That  did  the  deed,  thro'  all  the  ages.  Fame 
With  shame  shall  tarnish  his  life-history. 
Which  otherwise,  she  might  have  handed  down 
Embalmed  in  glory,  glamour,  and  renown! 
Now,  Judges!  I  have  done! — 
But  if  there  be  a  chaplain  here,  or  other. 
Who  can  petition  God  with  upright  face, 
I  ask  a  prayer  for  me  unto  His  Throne ! 

Coke. 
My  feelings  are  wrought  to  the  point  of  prayer, 
But  habit  seals  my  lips — if  any  here 
Will  pray,  he  has  my  leave,  and  thanks. 

Caspar  Queen. 
It  shall  not  be  that  I,  for  one,  stand  mute 
What  time  my  friend  has  asked  a  prayer  to  God; 
Imperfect  though  they  be,  my  thoughts  ascend. 
And  if  permitted,  I  will  follow  them 
With  voice  of  invocation. 

Coke. 
So  be  it  then;  let  every  knee  be  bowed, 
And  we  will  reverently  join — 

The  Prayer, 

Caspar  Queen. 
O,  God !  the  Author  of  all  ciu-rencies. 
Whereby  are  interchanged  the  fruits  of  mind, 
The  soul's  productions,  and  the  spirit's  wares. 
Give  me  in  simple  form  such  words  as  counters. 
That  I  may  with  Thine  ear  exchange  a  prayer; 
This  youth  hath  need  of  Thee — for  he  is  young. 
And  frail,  bowed  down,  and  at  the  gate  of  death, 
He  needs  a  temper  reconciled  to  die; 
He  needs  a  heart  responsive  to  Thy  will; 

105 


He  needs,  for  this  his  passion,  Thine  own  Spirit; 
The  old  do  reconcile  themselves  to  death; 
The  end  is  reached,  and  nature  seeks  repose; 
Not  so  with  youth,  whose  nerves  do  steel  them- 
selves 
Against  the  threat  of  premature  decay; 
They  cannot  brook  the  thought  of  dissolution — 
'Tis  like  a  bird  that  flies  against  a  wall — 
To  curb  a  high  career  by  sudden  death ! 
O,  woe  is  man  that  he  was  born  to  die ! 
But  joy!  that  Thou  Eternal  Father,  throwest 
Upon  his  path,  his  issues,  and  his  fate. 
Illumination  swift,  effulgent,  startlmg. 
Starlit,  yet  of  the  morning's  bath  of  dew; 
Mysterious  as  twilight,  bright  as  dawn; 
From  mountains  glancing,  yet  of  vales  the  joy; 
Immortal,  cheerful,  past  all  bound  of  thought ; 
Healing  with  balm  from  far  off  Gilead; 
So  may  this  Light  irradiate  the  way 
That  this  condemned  youth  approaches  now, 
That  open-visioned,  like  a  seer  of  God, 
He  may  walk  star-paths,  into  golden  gates, 
Through  holier  places,  and  celestial  spheres. 
Out  of  this  realm  of  sadness — out  of  this  land  of 
tears ! 

Coke. 
Amen! 

All  Voices. 

Amen! 
[While  they  are  kneeling  Mima  rises  on  the  trap- 
door, which  noiselessly  springs  to  its  place.  ] 
Mima. 

So  be  it  not ! 
Here  is  an  answer  better  than  your  prayer! 
Condemned  by  man,  God  has,  through  man,  re- 
prieved ! 

[Holds  the  Countermand  aloft.  ] 
106 


President. 
O  gracious  Heaven!  a  ghost! 

5th  Member. 

A  ghostess! 
[Exeunt  President  and  Court  pell-mell.  ] 
Coke. 
Look  to  the  prisoner!  here  is  a  plot! 

Caspar. 
O!  jubilate  Deo!  jubilate! 
'Tis  neither  ghost,  nor  apparition  dread, 
But  only  in  persona  propria. 
My  daughter,  Mima,  whose  most  timely  visit 
Bodes  some  response  in  favor  to  our  prayer — 

Mima. 
No,  plot,  Captain,  but  only  counterplot 
To  meet  the  wiles  of  foul  conspiracy 
Against  the  cause  of  truth,  of  law  and  justice! 
Here  is  a  package  destined  for  your  Colonel, 
Which  bears  upon  its  face  the  stamp  of  law. 
And  negatives  your  brutal  travesty. 

[Hands  him  the  package,  which  he  reads.] 
Coke. 
[Aside]     'Tis  genuine:  this  comes  of  civil  generals 
Who  spank  the  god  of  war  with  dictionaries ! 
[Aloud]     This  order  is  for  Matthews;  I  will  give 
it— 
Meanwhile  the  prisoner  on  parole  will  stand 
Released  from  actual  custody.     Madam ! 
Reserve  your  fire  for  target  more  deserving, 
For  I  am  complaisance  itself;  good-day! 

[Exit  with  Guard  and  other  officers  who  salute 
Mima  as  they  pass  ovi.] 
Clarence. 
Come  to  these  arms,  preserver  of  a  life — 
Not  worth  your  purchase  at  so  large  a  price 
As  a  single  tear  from  angel-eyes  like  yours — 
My  love!  my  heart!  my  life!  my  hope!  my  pride! 
107 


What!  but  a  moment  since,  so  brave  and  strong — 
And  now  so  weak,  so  timid — ? 

[A  noise  is  heard  under  the  floor.  ] 
Caspar. 
Children!  is  that  an  earthquake  rumbling  thus? 

Mima. 
No;  I  forgot  our  ever  faithful  Jesse! 
He's  still  below;  who  will  descend  for  him? 

Clarence. 
Perish  all  hope,  when  I  forget  that  friend! 

[He  descends  as  before.] 
Caspar. 
Well,  well — ten  thousand  thanks  to  God,  for  this ! 
For  mark  you,  though  I  prayed  that  boy  to  heaven 
It  was  conditional;  and  I  still  held 
A  secret  inexpressed  reserve  of  prayer 
That  God  would  rescue  him  in  His  own  time, 
And  so  my  prayer  was  answered,  Mima ! 

[The  trap-door  rises  with  Clarence  and  Jesse.] 
Jubilate  Deo!  Jubilate  Deo! 
Jess. 
Donee  de  jubilee-o!  dat  I  will  for  sho'! 

[Clarence  and  Mima  embrace;  Caspar  and  Jesse 
dance — tableau  vivant.  ] 


Scene  V 

Col.  MaUhews*s  tent:  President  and  Judges  of  the 
Court  Martial;  Capt.  Coke,  and  other  officers; 
Ralph  Simpson,  Caleb  Jones,  Caspar  Queen; 
Randal  Glaive  arraigned,  and  under  guard;  3d 
^Longshoreman;  the  Guard,  etc. 

Coke. 
Officers  of  the  military  court ! 
The  General  has  disapproved  your  finding 
Regarding  Clarence  Fauntleroy;  moreover, 
108 


New  evidence  has  proved  him  innocent, 

And  pointed  to  another  as  the  culprit; 

One  who  was  a  large  instrument  in  urging 

The  trial  and  conviction  of  the  first; 

It  only  now  remains  to  try  the  second, 

Whom  to  arraign  I  now  forthwith  proceed: 

So:  Randal  Glaive  stand  up  before  your  Judges: 

And  Judges,  look  upon  the  prisoner; 

For  the  murder  of  one  Fairfax  Lamoir, 

On  or  about  the  tenth  of  August  last, 

The  second  year  of  our  Independence, 

You  are  arraigned;  how  say  you,  guilty  or  not? 

President. 
He  answers  not. 

Coke. 

Therefore,  we  plead  for  him 
As  by  the  military  code  required; 
His  plea  is  not  guilty;  the  charge  is  here. 
With  items  specified — 

1st  Member. 
I  move  the  reading  be  dispensed ! 

President. 
'Tis  carried,  and  the  reading  is  dispensed. 
We'll  to  the  proofs,  without  delay. 

2d  Member. 
Might  we  not  use,  in  turn,  our  last  finding. 
By  scratching  out  the  other  fellow's  name. 
And  writing  what-d'-y'-call-im's,  in  its  stead? 
It  would  save  time. 

5th  Member. 
It  seems  to  me  blank  forms  of  condemnation 
Should  be  prepared,  and  kept  on  hand  for  us. 
When  I  a  board-of-supervisor  was. 
We  kept  blank  forms  for  everything  we  did. 

2d  Member. 
Was  that  in  Maryland? 

109 


5th  Member. 
It  was — in  Mur'land. 
President. 
Silence !     Coke,  fetch  along  the  evidence — 
We  wish  to  try  this  convict  right  at  once. 

Randal. 
[Aside]     Now,  could  I  blow  off  the  head  of  Simp- 
son, 
I  might  still  stand  a  chance  to  fool  these  dolts ! 

Coke. 
The  prisoner — has  he  been  searched? 

Randal. 
[Aside]     Now  is  the  very  crisis  of  my  fate! 
To  give  up  all  for  lost,  and  pistol  Ralph, 
Would  be  at  least,  a  sweet  revenge ! 
Dare  all  things,  is  the  only  maxim ! 

[Draws  his  pistol;  Ralph,  who  is  watching  him, 
springs  immediately  behind  the  President.  ] 
President. 
Murder,  murder!  don't  shoot,  and  I'll  acquit! 
I  will  do  any  thing! 

Coke. 
Guard!  strike  him  down! 

[The  Guard  strikes  doion  the  pistol,  and  proceeds 

to  pinion  Randal.] 
President. 
My  God!  and  am  I  hurt? 
Hand  me  a  drop  of  brandy,  do ! 

1st  Member. 
Hereafter,  every  pris'ner  should  be  searched 
Before  he  is  suspected! 

3d  Member. 
Or,  at  least,  before  he  be  apprehended ! 

President. 
Fiends!  Yes;  I'm  all  a  tremor ! 
110 


Coke. 
Come,  we  lose  time;  the  first  to  testify 
Is  Caleb  Jones;  hold  up  your  hand,  and  swear; 

Caleb. 
I  swear! 
t  Coke. 

State,  then,  what  do  you  know  about  this? 
CaUh. 
Whether  the  victim  be  already  dead, 
I  do  not  know,  but  think  him  so — 

President. 
In  murder  trials,  that  much  is  tak'n  for  granted; 
proceed ! 

Caleb. 
But  I  have  with  me  here 
His  Dying  Declaration  taken  down. 
What  time  he  knew  his  end  was  near  at  hand — 

Caspar. 
[Aside]     Say — in  articulo  mortis — Caleb! 

Caleb. 
Whether  it  shall  be  read,  is  for  the  Court. 

President. 
I  heard  it  read  this  ev'ning;  that  will  answer; 
Coke  brought  it  to  our  tent,  and  read  it  there! 

6th  Member. 
But  must  it  not  be  read  three  times,  before 
'Tis  on  its  passage  put? 

4th  Member. 
'Twas  always  so  done  in  the  legislature. 

President. 
No  more  reading;  I  understand  the  drift; 
The  dead  man  says  he  died  by  this  knave's  hands, 
And  who  should  tell  a  straighter  tale  than  he? 

3d  Member. 
His  death's  a  thing  he  cannot  well  forget. 

4th  Member. 
No — not  the  longest  day  of  's  life. 
Ill 


Coke. 
May  it  so  please  the  Court,  I  now  would  call 
Attention  to  this  dying  declaration, 
In  this,  which  well  may  test  its  genuineness: 
The  victim  says  that  his  assailant  had 
An  anchor  graven  on  his  dexter  arm, 
O'erwritten  with  his  name  of  Randal  Glaive. 
The  prisoner  should  bare  his  arm,  that  it 
May  testify  to  his  identity. 

Raridal. 
I  am,  as  you  see,  manacled  by  cords. 

President 
Thank  God! 

1st  Member. 
It  may  be  he's  another  pistol ! 
Coke. 
Trust  me  for  your  henceforth  security. 
The  Guard  will  give  the  prisoner  his  arms. 
That  he  may  bare  his  right  one  to  our  view. 

[They  untie  Randal,  who  exposes  his  right  arm. 
Coke. 
I  find  the  name  and  anchor,  as  foretold; 
This  is  the  man!  will  any  of  the  Court 
Examine  this  clear  proof  .f^ 

President. 

Not  for  the  world! 
Coke. 
The  next  in  order  of  our  evidence. 
Will  be  the  oath  of  this  old  negro  man. 
State  to  the  Court  your  knowledge  and  belief. 

Jesse. 
Well,  suh,  de  fust  time  I  did  see  dat  man, 
I  see  him  settin  on  a  boulder-rock. 
Not  forty  yard  from  dis  identic  spot — 
No — ^not  a  hardly  thirty  yard — if  dat. 
I  see  him  wid  another  man  a  diggin' ; 
Day  liff  a  box,  and  put  it  in  de  hole; 

112 


Den  I  went  roun'  de  hill  a  follin'  de  path, 
And  when  I  hove  in  sight  of  'em  agin, 
I  see  one  man  was  gone,  and  one  was  leff, 
And  he  was  settin  on  dat  rock; 
And  I  can  took  you  to  dat  rock,  right  now. 

Coke. 
And  do  you  recognize  the  prisoner. 
As  being  he  who  sat  upon  that  rock? 

Jesse. 
No  Suh;  kyant  cognize  nuffin  but  de  rock; 
But  I  can  took  you  to  de  rock,  right  now. 

Caleb. 
Another  test  should  lie  beneath  that  rock! 

Coke. 
Silence! 

Under  the  rock,  if  this  account 
Be  true,  should  lie  the  Box  of  poor  Lamoir! 

Randal. 
[Aside]     One  hope  for  me — a  single  hope — re- 
mains ! 
[Aloud]     I  will  abide  that  test;  let  come  what 

may: 
This  old  man  was  in  the  conspiracy — 

Jesse. 
Noo-hoon!     I  was  in  de  road. 

Randal. 
Judges !  if  justice  be  the  object  sought, 
And  not  conviction,  with  indecent  haste. 
Proceed  to  see  if  there  be  any  box 
Beneath  the  spot  where  this  old  negro  states. 
Whereto,  also,  that  dying  declaration. 
Fictitious  as  it  is,  would  seem  to  point; 
Let  this  old  man  conduct  you  thither. 

Coke. 
Good! 

Judges,  let  us  take  this  challenged  test! 
lis 


[Aside]     We  may  find  the  long  sought  dispatches 
yet! 

[Aloud]     A  detail  now  is  needed  for  our  search. 

Ho,  Guard!  remove  the  pris'ner  to  the  guard- 
house; 

The  Court  will  be  adjourned  to  meet  again, 

One  hour  hence,  upon  a  neighboring  spot 

To  be  by  this  old  witness  designate. 

[Exeunt  in  dij^'erent  directions.] 


Scene  VI 

The  High  Blujf;  Landscape  and  bit  of  Sea^  as  in  Act 
I.  Scene  II.  Present:  Coke,  President  and 
Officers  of  Court-martial,  Fauntleroy,  Mimay 
Caleb,  Jesse,  Randal  Glaive  under  guard.  De- 
tail of  soldiers,  with  spades  and  picks'.  Guards, 
Spectators,  etc. 

Jesse  [taking  his  seat  over  Lamoir's  treasure.] 
Dis  hyuh  de  rock;  hyuh  whar  he  sot,  for  sho*. 

Caleb. 
And  here  we  see  Lamoir's  initials  cut — 
We  have  it !  we  have  it ! 

Coke. 
Silence ! 

Fall  to,  my  men;  remove  this  stone. 

Randal. 
[Aside]     One  bit  of  luck  in  all  this  deadly  run, 
That  I  removed  that  fatal  box! 
[Ahud]     Let  this,  then,  be  the  test;  if,  as  pre- 
tended 
By  this  fictitious  dying  declaration. 
And  by  this  old  veracious  negro  vagrant, 

114 


You  find  the  Box,  then  I  am  guilty  found, 
If  not,  I  am  acquit ! 

[The  Detail  digs.] 
Randal. 
Will  you  to  China  dig  your  way.  Ha!  ha! 
Or  stop  at  that  depth  of  the  well,  where  lies, 
Encrystaled  (as  the  proverb  says),  the  Truth? 

[They  continue  to  dig. 
Caleb. 
The  Box!  the  Box! 

Coke. 
'Tis  true;  they  strike  a  Box; 
Be  wary,  men,  and  do  not  split  the  top. 

Randal. 
Impossible ! 

Caleb. 
The  Box!  the  Box! 
Randal. 

You  Ue! 
Coke. 
Lift  out  the  Box,  my  men;  is  it  so  heavy? 

1st  Soldier. 
Good  God !  you  heft  it  onst ! 
Randal. 

Am  I  beset 
By  supernatural,  or  infernal  agents? 
Either  I  dream,  or  here  is  certain  witchcraft ! 
I  give  the  game  away;  O,  God!  but  life, 
When  to  its  sudden  curtail  brought,  is  sweet! 

[The  Detail  lift  the  Box  out  before  the  Judges.] 
President. 
Have  a  care;  perhaps  it's  a  torpedo! 

[The  Judges  scatter.] 
Coke. 
Nonsense !  pry  off  the  top,  my  men ! 

[They  pry  the  top.] 
115 


Here  is  a  parcel;  and  whose  superscription? 

[Reads.  ] 
"To  General  Fitzhugh  Lee — per  Signal  Corps." 
[Enter  Matthews,  and  Field,  on  horseback.  ] 
Matthews. 
Come,  Coke,  what  means  this  motley  congrega- 
tion? 
The  hour  for  marching  is  at  hand. 

Caleb. 
Huzza !  Dispatches !  Innocence  and  Guilt ! 
Huzza!  huzza! 

Matthews. 
Is  he  a  lunatic? 

Fauntleroy. 
No,  please  you.  Colonel,  but  a  financier. 

Matthews. 
It  is  the  same — they  are  synonymous! 

Caleb. 
Huzza!  huzza! 

Coke. 
Silence ! 

Huzza!  huzza! 

Matthews. 
Alack!  my  advocate  is  crazy  too! 
Old  Williamsburg  has  given  up  her  charge, 
And  my  command  caught  the  contagion  thence — 
What  means  this  senseless  noise? 

Coke. 
It  means  that  this  day's  travail  works  promotion ! 
The  lost  Dispatches  here  have  been  exhumed, 
And  here  they  are ! 

[Hands  package  to  Matthews,  who  examines.] 
Matthews. 
1  see  it  at  a  glance;  they  are  important; 
Fitz.  Lee  must  have  them  ere  to-morrow's  sun; 

116 


Make  quick  work  here,  and  let  us  ride — 
Come,  Field,  and  let  the  bugle  blow  for  saddles ! 
[Exeunt  Matthews  and  Field.  ] 
Coke, 
Let  us  prove  what  besides,  this  Box  contains. 

[Examines  contents.  ] 
Here's  gold  in  vast  amount;  some  silver  too; 
And  here — 

[Enter  Caspar  Queen.] 
Caspar. 
My  Lord!  I  am  undone! 
I  am  a  ruined,  and  a  broken  man ! 

Coke. 
What  now?  was  Matthews  right  about  this  craze? 
See  how  this  old  man  raves,  as  in  a  daze ! 

Caspar. 
This  was  the  spot:  I've  just  located  it! 
Under  this  stone,  lay  my  Confederate  Bonds! 
Some  knave  has  exchanged  them  for  filthy  gold — 
Redeemed  them  with  this  inconvenient  coin — 
I  will  not  have  this  base  metallic  standard ! 
No,  give  me  back  my  Bonds!  my  Bonds!  my 

Bonds ! 
My  Bonds !  the  whole  Coofederacy  for  my  Bonds ! 

Coke. 
Alas — the  poor  old  man  should  thus  go  daft ! 

Fauntleroy. 
Enough  to  turn  the  brain  of  calmer  folk! 
This  day  one  week  ago  I  will  be  sworn 
This  man,  attended  by  his  child  and  me. 
Here  in  this  spot,  and  under  this  same  stone, 
Interred  a  Box  containing  untold  sums 
Of  Registered  Confederate  Scrip,  or  Bonds — 
I  marked  the  place,  and  when  you  struck  this  Box, 
I  trembled  for  the  consequence  to  us. 
But  when  you  opened  it,  behold  I  find 
The  treasure  of  my  partner — (now  my  own — ) ; 
X17 


How  came  this  substitution?  whence  have  gone — 

Caspar. 
Where  are  my  Bonds?     Alas,  the  day,  my  Bonds! 
Let  all  things  perish,  be  my  Bonds  but  safe! 

[Enter  Master   Bairiy   attended  by  two  sailors, 
bearing  a  Box.] 

Bain. 
Set  down  the  Box:  Is  Colonel  Matthews  here? 
This  Box  may  prove  of  value  to  the  service. 

Coke. 
A  plague  on  boxes !  one  of  them's  enough. 

Bain. 
But  why  so  curt  about  the  matter.  Captain? 
I  am  your  peer;  I  wish  that  understood ! 

Coke. 
I  did  not  mean  offense;  but  if  so  taken. 
You  know  your  remedy ! 

Bain. 

And  shall  pursue  it. 
Meanwhile,  relieve  me  of  this  box — 

[Enter  Ralph  Simpson.] 
Ralph. 
Yon  prisoner,  dressed  as  one  Sergeant  Johnson, 
With  my  assistance,  did  exhume  this  box. 
And  to  the  coast  conveyed  it,  thence  to  hurry 
Across  the  Bay;  but  I  suspecting  him, 
And  bent  on  his  conscription  in  our  service. 
Secured  this  box,  though  he  escaped  my  grip 
Till  later. 

Coke. 
Pry  off  the  top;  we'll  note  what  it  contains. 

[They  pry  the  top,  and  find  the  Bonds 
of  Caspar  Queen.] 
These  are  Confederate  Bonds;  behold  the  name 
Of  'Caspar  Queen' ! 

Caspar. 
My  Bonds!  Thank  God,  my  Bonds! 
118 


Coke. 
I  see  it  all;  this  murderer  had  buried 
His  victim's  box;  you  buried  yours  hard  by; 
While  looking  for  the  first,  he  chanced  on  yours, 
Which  thus  exchanged,  produced  this  mystery. 
See  now;  Master!  who  brought  these  bonds  to  you? 

Bain. 
These  two  'longshoremen,  ordered,  as  they  said, 
By  a  Conscription  officer;  they  brought. 
Also,  this  curious  stone. 

[Gives  Coke  the  stone.] 
Coke. 
Where  was't  found.? 

1st  ^Longshoreman. 
We  found  it  near  the  Grotto's  mouth  on  bayshore. 
A  near  as  can  be  popindiculah 
From  yon  High  Bluff — 

2d   ^Longshoreman. 

He  means  plumdiculah. 
Coke. 
This  stone;  it  must  have  lain  near  where  he  fell — 
The  victim  of  this  most  unholy  deed — 
Alas,  Lamoir! — 

Judges!  attend,  I  read 
The  superscription  on  this  curious  stone. 

[Reads.] 
"Randal  Glaive 

Farewell !  a  long  farewell. 

To  conscience  turned  to  stone! 
Should  we  two  meet  again  'tis  ill, 
For  I  will  do  as  thou  art  done, 
And  I  will  leap  where  thou  art  thrown!" 
President. 
That  sounds  like  poetry;  whose  composition. 
In  time  of  war,  is  naked  treason ! 
5th  Member. 
'Tis  a  breach  of  the  peace,  is't  not.^^ 

119 


President. 
Coke,  I  am  getting  very  hungry  now — 
Could  you  not  leave  us  to  convict  this  man, 
And  get  our  dinners,  while  they  shoot  him? 

CoJce. 
Ho,  Guard !  remove  all  but  the  prisoner. 
In  order  to  judicial  consultation, 
And  judgment  of  the  court. 

[All  retire  hut  Glaive,  the  Guard,  the  Court,  and 

Coke.] 
President. 
Give  us  a  pen;  we'll  soon  dispatch  the  job; 
Write  you,  my  brother,  what  I  shall  dictate. 
[The  Judges  retire  a  short  distance,  and  the  5th 
member  is  seen  writing   to  the  Presidents 
dictation.  ] 

Coke. 
What  led  you  to  commit  so  rude  a  deed? 

Randal. 
Temptation ! 

Coke. 
It  is  the  vice  that  fathers  crime. 
Seducing  virtue  from  the  path  of  duty, 
By  subtle  pleading,  and  unworthy  art; 
For  some  are  born  with  power  to  resist; 
With  others,  to  be  tempted  is  to  fall; 
A  sudden  gust  of  passion,  or  a  glint 
Of  fancy,  or  voluptuous  pencil-touch, 
Will,  with  these  pitiable  spirits,  serve 
To  scale  the  height  of  many  a  year's  resolve, 
Which  had  entrenched  itself  behind  the  breast, 
To  fortify  the  soul  against  surrender. 

Randal. 
Twas  so  with  me;  but  all  regret  is  child's  play. 

[The  Judges  return.] 
President. 
'Read  you  here  my  brother,  what  we  find. 
120 


5th  Member  [reads] 

*As  to  our  first  finding  of  Clarence  Fauntleroy 
guilty,  we  reverse  the  same  unanimously,  and  on 
the  following  grounds:  1st,  That  the  murdered 
man  may  be  still  alive;  2d,  That  he  was  killed  by 
another  man;  3d,  That  he  may  have  fallen  over 
the  precipice  voluntarily,  and  died  a  natural  death 
from  the  accident. 

As  to  the  other  fellow  (name  not  remembered, 
but  to  be  asked  him),  we  find  him  guilty y  on  the 
following  grounds:  1st,  He  undoubtedly  killed  the 
man,  who  if  not  now  dead,  is  as  good  as  dead; 
2d,  Even  should  the  murdered  man  not  die,  his 
convalescence  can  only  end  in  his  ultimate  de- 
cease.' 

Coke. 
The  finding  is,  in  substance,  as  it  should  be. 
And  for  the  form,  I  will  attend  to  that, 
Before  'tis  signed  or  forwarded — 
The  prisoner  is  convicted;  Randal  Glaive, 
Stand  up! 

Randal. 
The  die  is  cast;  I  have  not  lived  in  vain; 
Captain !  I  call  on  you  to  bear  me  witness, 
As  soon  as  all  was  up — the  dead-line  reached — 
I  knew  the  end,  and  met  it  like  a  man, 
And  no  resistance  made  to  your  decrees. 
All  that  I  now  ask  at  your  hands  is  this — 
Let  me  retire  to  yonder  Pinnacle, 
Whence  T  may  gaze  upon  the  boundless  Sea — 
Upon  the  infinitely  boundless  Sea, 
And  spend  some  moments  in  repose,  and  quiet; 
And  one  boon  more  I  pray — give  me  that  Stone, 
That  I  may  look  upon  my  name  inscribed, 
And  think  upon  my  youth,  my  innocence. 
My  mother! 

121 


Coke. 
You  are  condemned  for  an  offense. 
The  gravest  which  is  known  to  human  law; 
The  penalty  is  death;  the  finding  yet 
Lacks  confirmation  by  the  General ; 
But  yet,  I  do  not  see  a  hope  whereon 
May  hang  one  doubt  of  his  approval. 
Make,  therefore,  peace  with  man,  good  will  with 
God! 

Randal. 
I  will! 

Give  me  that  Stone;  let  me  retire; 
[He  retires  to  the  edge  of  the  Bluff,  and  reads.  ] 
"Farewell!  a  long  farewell 

To  Conscience  turned  to  stone! 
Should  we  two  meet  again,  'tis  ill, 

For  I  will  do  as  thou  art  done, 
And  I  will  leap  where  thou  art  thrown!" 

The  end  is  reached;  there  is  no  logic  which      ^ 
Can  save  a  soul  whose  life  is  badly  spent,         ^^ 
Nor  aught  but  Death  can  terminate  despair;  ^; 
And  so,  as  we  have  met,  ill-fated  Stone! 
I  keep  the  vow,  and  leap  where  thou  wert  thrown ! 
[Leaj^s  over  the  Bluff  to  the  Bay.] 

Coke. 
Ho,  there!  Guard!  Fire!  Halt! — 
It  is  all  over  with  our  trial  now; 
The  pris'ner  has  anticipated  us. 

Sergeant  of  Guard. 
Much  use  to  fire  now! 

Coke. 

I  will  look  down; 
The  tide  is  out,  and  on  the  sand  I  see 
More  ghastly  sight  than  War's  yet  shown  to  me, 
Just  sprinkled  by  the  inmost-reaching  wave — 
122 


A  shapeless  speck;  Farewell  to  Randal  Glaive! 

[A  bugle  blows.] 
I  hear  the  bugles  blow  to  horse;  and  now 
Our  mission  ended  here,  with  folded  tents, 
We  bid  farewell  to  old  Northumberland! 

[Exeunt  in  divers  directions.] 


Scene  VII 

Public  room  at  Tollhouse. 
Present:  Caspar  Queen^  Caleb  Jones;  a  large  tavie 
Bird  of  Minerva  in  a  cage^  suspended  from  the 
ceiling. 

Caspar. 
Tell  me  now,  friend  Caleb,  do  you,  in  your  new 
and  fashionable  suit,  presented  by  friend  Clarence, 
the  Blockade-runner,  feel  stronger  financially? 

Caleb. 
In  mental  strength,  you  mean  of  course? 
Caspar. 
Of  course  1  do,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  no 
difference  in  the  meaning,  in  scientific  method? 

Caleb. 
Permit  me  then,  Sir,  to  say  I  do;  and  pass  me  the 
brandy. 

Caspar. 
With  pleasure;  your  very  good  health. 

[They  drink.] 
Now  to  our  thesis:  the  first  question  on  my 
memorandum  book  is  this: 

To  say  that  money  is  tight,  is  merely  another 
way  of  saying  that  the  accumulation  of  money  is 
so  sparsely  disseminated  that  it  eludes  the  popu- 
lar grasp ;  on  such  occasions,  it  accumulates  in  the 
123 


banks;  now  the  problem  is;  what  makes  money 
at  one  time  accumulate  in  the  banks,  and  at  an- 
other time  leave  the  banks,  and  go  elsewhere,  and 
where  does  it  go? 

Caleh. 
Sir,  your  question  is  complex;   simplify,   my 
friend,  simpHfy! 

Caspar. 
I  see  the  point;  imprimis;  what  makes  money  at 
one  time  accumulate  in  the  banks? 
Caleb. 
I  give  the  answer,  imprimis.     It  is  a  popular 
fallacy  to  suppose  that   all  the   money   of  the 
country  is  in  the  hands  of  the  bulls,  bears,  or  even 
asses  thereof;  it  is,  in  reality,  held  by  the  people 
of  the  same,  and  the  reason  why  it  accumulates 
in  the  banks  at  one  time,  is  because  at  such  time 
the  people  deposit  it  there. 
Owl 
Tuwhit,  tuwhit,  tuwhoo! 

Caspar. 
[Aside]     O,    profound    response!     O,    wisdom 
incarnate!     [Aloud]     I  understand;  and  now  for 
number  two,  secundum.     Why  does  the  money  at 
another  time  leave  the  banks,  and  go  elsewhere? 
Caleh. 
Because  at  such  other  time,  the  people  go  to  the 
banks  and  solemnly  withdraw  their  money  there- 
from, and  departing,  leave  behind  them  footprints 
on  the  sands  of    the  doorsills  of    said  financial 
institutions,  with  the  toes  turned  outward. 

Owl. 
Tuwhit,  tuwhit,  tuwhoo ! 

Caspar. 
[Aside]     O,  Solomon!    O,  Aristotle!     O,  Smith! 
[Aloud ]     I  am  profoundly  satisfied :  but  now  for 
question  third:  tertium.  Where  does  the  money  go? 
124 


Caleb. 
The  money  goes  where  the  people  go,  and  they 
go  about  their  business! 

Owl. 
Tuwhoo!  tuwhit,  tuwhit,  tuwhit,  tuwhoo-o-o! 

Caspar. 
O,  sublime  financier!  a  thousand  thanks!  a  thou- 
sand thanks ! 

Enter  Jesse. 
Jesse,  your  coming  is  well-timed!  what  tidings 
of  the  bride  and  groom? 


Why  bless  yo*  soul,  Mast'  Kyosper,  de  weddih' 
is  almost  hyuh,  and  you  two  ole  gentlemen,  a-settin' 
hyuh  in  yo'  new  swallow-tail  coats,  wid  bross 
buttons,  a-talkin  financh!  (I  'spises  dat  subjeck, 
'clar  to  God  I  does!)  Look  out'n  de  winder,  ef 
you  don't  b'lieve  me! 

[  They  go  to  the  window;  Jesse  empties  the  bottle.  ] 

Caspar. 

Jesse  is  right;  the  bridal  procession  is  at  hand. 

[Enter  Clarence  and  Mima  as  Bride  and  Groomy 
follovwd  by  attendantSy  and  guests,  who  ar- 
range themselves  around  the  room.  ] 

Jesse. 
[Aside  to  colored  companions.  ]     Some  you  boys 
gimme  a  lif ' — I  gw^ne  to  stood  on  my  head ! 
1st  Colored  Companion. 
He!  he!  yah!     Uncle  Jess  gwine  to  stood  on  he 
head! 

Jess. 
Gimme  lif  I  tole  you!     I  ain't  stood  on  my 
head  since  ole  Miss'  bo't  dem  new  carriage- bosses; 
but  I  gwine  to  stood  on  my  head  now,  sho' ! 

[Stands  on  his  head.] 

125 


Fauntleroy, 
Father,  into  the  holy  bonds  of  wedlock, 
As  willing  captives,  Mima  and  myself. 
Have  entered  with  the  sacred  rights  prescribed, 
By  service  of  the  church,  confirmed  by  law; 
And  nothing  now  remains  to  render  perfect 
Our  happiness,  except  a  father's  blessing! 
Here  kneeling,  let  that  blessing  fall  on  us, 
As  gently  as  the  sacred  influence 
From  cereal  sources,  and  celestial  love. 
That  falling  in  the  Spring,  fills  all  the  earth. 
With  emerald  bloom,  and  floral  consecration! 

Caspar. 
A  father's  blessing,  children !  never  doubt  it ! 
Shall  be  bestowed,  in  copious  quahty. 
Such  as  so  poor  a  fountain  as  my  heart 
Can  furnish  you;  I  bless  you  children,  both! 
Take  her,  my  son,  and  cherish  as  your  life ! 
Not  portionless  she  comes,  but  with  such  dowry 
As  fortune  seldom  deigns  to  shower  on  youth; 
One-half  my   hard-earned   wealth,   in   long-date 

Bonds, 
Stamped  with  imprimature  of  liberty, 
And  with  Confederate  sovereign  ensigns  sealed, 
Is  yours,  my  dearest  children!  yours — all  yours! 
Take  it — my  wealth — enjoy,  and  be  happy; 
But  in  enjoyment,  look  to  charity; 
Which  grace  we're  told  exalteth  not  itself. 
Is  not  puffed  up,  but  suffereth,  and  is  kind; 
In  your  great  wealth,  remember  poverty! 
You  tread  on  borders  of  a  gay  parterre. 
O'er  beds  of  roses,  myrtle-strewn,  and  bossed 
W^ith  groups  of  violets,  stained  with  early  dew; 
Lead  her  full  gently,  o'er  these  flowery  walks ! 
From  Bowers  of  love,  flow  pious  sentiments; 
Thence  flows  the  fountain  purity, 
More  crystal  pure  than  mountain  source — 
126 


More  scintillant  than  all  the  stars — 
Prophetic  more  than  sacred  groves ! 
Thence  hope  proceeds,  and  beauty  issues; 
Thence  melody,  and  fragrance  steal, 
As  from  the  lily's  cloistered  breast; 
Thence  chivalry,  as  from  the  South, 
Thence  charity,  and  all  things  which 
An  open  sense  makes  feminine; 
Thence,  over  all,  walks  Love  himself. 
In  all  his  true  divinity. 
To  make  us  perfect,  like  the  gods! 

[Caspar  embraces  them;  Tableau.] 


Wi 


HILDEBRAND 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


HiLDEBRAND An  OuTLAW 

Captain  Clark. .  Captain  in  the  Confederate  Army 

Captain  Hilton Captain  in  the  Federal  Army 

Harry  Clinebell Nephew   of  Hildebrand 

Dorchester Neighbor  of  Hildebrand 

Tubal. . .  A  Freedman,  former  slave  of  Hildebrand 
Soldiers,  Guards,  Neighbors,  etc. 

Kate Wife  of  Hildebrand 

Elise Daughter  of  Hildebrand 


[The  Scene  is  laid  in  the  Ozark  Mountains,  Missouri,  and 
the  Time  embraces  about  a  fortnight — one  week  before  the 
Surrender  at  Appomatox,  and  one  week  after  that  event.] 


HILDEBRAND 


ACT  I 


Scene  I. — Sitting  room  in  HUdebramTs  cottage^ 
at  the  base  of  Ozark  Mountain,  in  Missouri.  Pres- 
ent: Hildebrand,  Kate  and  Elise.  A  knock  is 
heard. 

Hildebrand. 
Come  in!     [Enter  Captain  Clark.] 

You  are   welcome,   stranger! 
Clark. 
My  name  is  Clark — a  captain  as  you  see — 
My  men !  four  privates,  and  a  corporal ! 

Hildebrand. 
All  are  quite  welcome  here !  My  wife  and  daughter! 

Clark. 
Our  business  is  with  Captain  Hildebrand. 

Hildebrand. 
No  *captain,'  if  you  please,  but  Hildebrand — 
Plain  Hildebrand — John  Hildebrand ! 

Clark. 
No  difference — *No  rank  no  pay,'  the  soldiers  say. 
We  are  Confederate  soldiers,  Hildebrand, 
And  come  upon  a  duty  not  all  pleasant. 

[Looks  at  Elise,  and  hesitates.] 
The  ladies  will  excuse  our  being  blunt — 
Whose  presence  I  am  proud  to  recognize. 
133 


1st  Soldier.       [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
I  give  it  up!     a  gal  and  Clark  is  on  it! 

Kate.  JH 

Pardon,  Captain!     My  husband  has  no  secrets —     S|| 

Hildebrand. 
My  wife  and  girl  shrink  not  from  hearing  all 
Our  humble  roof  incloses  for  my  ears; 
What  concerns  me  concerns  us  all — proceed! 

Clark. 
Miss  Hildebrand,  can  you  remark  the  line. 
With  sweet  discerning  charity,  which  duty 
Prescribes,  between  the  soldier,  and  the  man? 
That  which  we  would,  and  what  perforce  we  must. 
When  discipline  subdues  our  peaceful  will? 

1st  Soldier.      [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
I  say — we  might  as  well  git  up  and  git — 
For  Clark  is  on  it ! 

2d  Soldier. 
Egad!  but  she  is  pretty! 

3d  Soldier. 
Why,  pretty  ain't  the  figur  for  the  gal — 
She's  pint  blank  beautiful. 

Elise. 
I  know  the  line  that  severs  right  from  wrong. 

Hildebrand. 
Captain,  you  are  a  soldier;  I,  a  man — 
Not  courteous — of  fewer  words  than  acts ; 
Say  what  you  have  to  say,  and  to  the  point. 
Clark. 
[Aside]       I'd  give  the  world  to  brighten  that 
sweet  face. 
Well,  ^r,  with  reverence  for  your  family, 
And  all  due  deference  to  your  daughter  there — 
You  are  conscripted,*  and  my  duty  is 
To  take  you  into  camp ! 

*So  used  for  *conscribed'    almost   universally  during  the 
late  war. 

134 


1st  Soldier    [Aside   to   his  companions, 
I  never  know  him 
To  use  three  blarney  words  before.     She's  fetched 

him! 

Hildebrand. 
You  put  it.  Captain,  pleasantly,  I'm  sure — 
But,  Captain,  I  am  over  five  and  forty. 

Clark. 
Excuse  me,  Hildebrand,  and  let  my  duty 
Shield  me  from  misconstruction  with  these  ladies, 
But  to  be  frank,  your  loyalty  is  not 
Unblemished  by  report  of  busy  tongues. 
And  this,  together  with  great  need  of  troops. 
Has  caused  your  name  to  be  enrolled. 

Hildebrand. 
My  loyalty?     I'm  loyal  to  a  fault! 
More  so  than  they  who  drench  our  land  in  blood  I 
Good  sooth!  the  Northern  hordes  are   loyal,  are 

they— 
Blazing  their  way  by  light  of  peaceful  homes ! 
And  you  are  loyal,  as  your  leaders  are. 
Who  forced  this  issue  on  the  unwilling  mass, 
By  firing  first,  without  sufficient  cause! 
Both  loyal !  all  are  loyal !  save  the  few 
Who  stand  with  folded  arms,  and  naked  breasts. 
And  say:  we  will  not  dip  our  hands  in  blood; 
We  will  not  slay  our  brethren,  but  will  feed. 
Will  clothe  them  all — attend  the  sick — will  watch. 
Will  pray — and  while  we  have,  divide  our  bread. 
And  share  with  all  alike !     If  this  be  treason, 
I  am  a  traitor  to  rebellion,  and 
Disloyal  to  the  Northern  matricides ; 
But  to  the  country !     Constitution!     God! 
'Tis  I  am  loyal !     Ye  are  traitors  all ! 
Go  tell  your  masters  so,  for  Hildebrand, 
And  say  he  will  not  stir! 


1S5 


Clark, 
111  said  or  well, 

(With  deference  to  your  daughter's  presence  here). 
Duty  is  duty,  and  must  be  performed. 
Though  beauty  should  consent  to  plead  for  you, 
Imploring  us,  with  sweet,  persuasive  art — 

Hildebrand. 
My  duty  is  to  stay. 

Clark. 

And  mine  to  take  you. 
You  have  too  much  good  sense  to  fail  to  scan 
The  situation! 

Hildebrand. 
I  will  not  go  hence. 

Clark. 
You  must! 

Hildebrand. 
You  say  I  must? 

Clark. 

Yes,  I  say  so! 
All  six  of  us,  being  ordered,  say  the  same. 
[To   Elise.]      This  dogma  miist  lies  at  the  base  of 
War. 

Hildebrand. 
If  you  and  Must  are  right,  I  will  obey ! 
Kate,  do  not  weep;  be  strong,  for  I  am  so. 
Elise,  my  child,  a  word  with  you  in  private. 

[They  converse  apart.] 
Now  Captain,  I  am  going  to  prepare; 
An  old  man  cannot  bear  the  toils  of  camp 
Without  some  shield  against  the  edge  of  hardship. 

Clark. 
Excuse  me,  Hildebrand,  but  your  parol? 

Hildebrand. 
I  leave  my  daughter  hostage. 
Elise. 

Captain  Clark! 
136 


The  line  between  the  soldier  and  the  man — 
Now,  tell  me,  is  there  such  a  line,  and  where? 

[Exeunt  Hildebrand  and  Kate.] 
1st  Soldier.      [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
Goodbye  to  Hildebrand !  none  but  a  nat'ral 
Would  look  to  see  him  more ! 
Clark. 
The  soldier  has 
No  will,  but  like  the  arm,  obeys  the  head ; 
He  cannot  pause  to  weigh  the  reason  why ; 
To  count  the  cost,  is  treason  to  his  duty ; 
Orders  are  law ;  obey,  that  is  religion. 

1st  Soldier. 
[Aside]     I  must  speak!     Hildebrand  will  be  a  mile 
From  here  in  fifteen  minutes. 
[Aloud]  Captain  Clark!  i 

[Clark  and  the  soldier  converse  apart. 
Clark. 
Sergeant,  dispose  your  men  as  you  think  best; 
Be  sure  that  no  one  leaves  the  house  tonight; 
I  will  remain  inside. 

[Exeunt  sergeant  and  soldiers  to  guard  escape.] 
Elise. 

The  mind  is  will; 
The  will  belonging  to  the  drill  and  camp. 
Controls  the  mind;  how  is  it  with  the  heart? 
And  tongue? 

Clark. 
The  tongue,  fair  girl,  is  armor-clad 
So  stiff  in  mail,  it  cannot  trip  it  glibly. 
As  does  the  supple  knight's,  of  peaceful  times. 
But  the  soldier's  heart's  a  sentinel. 
That  guards  the  camp  of  love,  and  will  permit 
No  entrance  there,  without  your  countersign — 
Beauty  and  virtue ! 

Elise, 

I  inquired  in  earnest — 
137 


You  answer  me  in  jest ;    is  this  the  soldier, 
Or  the  man? 

Clark. 
The  soldier  speaking  for  the  man. 

Elise, 
I  understand  you ;     flattery  shows  the  man, 
Impertinence  the  soldier ! 

Clark. 

No;     the  man 
Is  true;  the  soldier  not  impertinent,  though 
A  rough  interpreter,  that  in  translation 
Makes  but  an  epigram  where  poems 
Were  required. 

Elise. 
O !     if  the  man  be  true,  the  soldier  brave. 
He  will  not  misconceive  a  maiden's  prayer. 
I  ask  not  that  you  compromit  your  duty, 
In  this  grave  trial  where  our  hearts  are  fixed. 
But  one  promise^ — only  one.     You  will  befriend 
My  father!     He  has  a  spirit  stern  but  just. 
And  steady  to  his  vision  of  the  truth; 
But  from  his  nurture,  and  necessity 
Of  life — perchance  a  temper  overhot, 
A  dauntless  will,  and  nature  fierce  when  roused; 
A  voice  as  stubborn  as  the  lion's  throat. 
Which  in  the  desert,  or  the  cage  alike. 
Curbs  no  scintilla  of  its  native  strength — 
You  cannot  leave  him  with  us,  as  you  say. 
But  you  may  intercede  to  send  him  back.? 

Clark. 
My  heart  responds  before  my  tongue  can  forge 
It  utterance ;     but  since  my  power  falls  short 
Of  what  my  will  would  bring  about  for  you. 
And  since  a  maiden  prayer, through  beauty's  mouth 
Is  far  more  prevalent  than  man's  can  be. 
Why  not  yourself  accompany  us  to  camp? 
A  soldier's  promise,  and  the  faith  a  friend 
138 


May  claim  as  due  (what  more  I  dare  not  add,) 
Stand  surety  for  your  safety. 
Elise. 

I  agree! 
You  will  assist  me  in  my  prayer? 
Clark. 

I  will! 
Elise. 
Enough !     now  give  me  my  parol  in  writing ; 
You  see  I  understand  the  military  code ; 
I  am  to  smother  what  I  see  in  camp, 
And  you  to  guarantee  me  safe  return. 
Beneath  the  sacred  shelter  of  a  passport. 
You  shall  have  no  excuse.  Sir  Kiiight;  here  are 
Materials  to  write. 

[She  arranges  a  small  table,  with  a  chair  facing 
the  front  door.  Clark  sits  down  to  write.  Enter 
Hildebrand  from  behind,  with  a  revolver  drawn, 
and  cocked.  ] 

Hildebrand. 

Turn  neither  right 
Nor  left !     March  forward !     onward !  out !  or  die ! 
This  house  is  Hildebrand's ! 

Clark.     [Looking  over  his  shovlder.] 

What  means  this  outrage? 
Hildebrand. 
Speak  low  or  die!     There  is  the  door!     Forward! 

Elise. 
The  dogma  Must  lies  at  the  base  of  War! 

Clark. 
This  is  a  base  inturn ! 

Hildebrand. 

Turn  out,  I  say! 
Forward ! 

Clark. 

Pause  and  reflect. 


130 


Forward ! 


Forward! 


HiMebrand. 

Don't  stop  to  think! 

Clark. 

Don't  go  too  far! 
Hildebrand. 

Don't  stop  too  short! 


Clark. 
Truly;  pause,  and  I  will  intercede  for  you. 

Hildebrand. 
Falsely  move,  and  I  will  blow  you  through ! 

[Exit    Captain  Clark,   Hildebrand    closing    and 
locking  the  door.] 

Scene  II.     Same    place.     Present:      Hildebrand, 
Kate  and  Elise.      A  knock  is  heard 

Hildebrand. 
Kate !    to  your  ambush,  and  await  my  signal ! 

[Kate   stations  herself  behind   the    door,   which 
Hildebrand   opens,    concealing    her   in   the   angle. 
Enter  Captain  Hilton,  with  five  Federal  dragoons.] 
Come  gentle-men,  you're  welcome,  I  am  sure. 

Hilton. 
Is  this  the  dwelling  of  John  Hildebrand? 

Hildebrand. 
My  name. 

Hilton. 
My  men  and  I  are  weary,  sir; 
We've  skirted  'round  the  base  of  this  rough  mount 
Some  fifteen  miles — a  scouting  party  mere, 
Looking  for  forage. 

Hildebrand. 
Then  you've  made  descent 
As  fruitless  as  the  brants  that  sometimes  light 
Around  our  mountain  lake,  for  rest  and  food, 

140 


Below  the  crest  of  Pilot  Knob;  the  flock 
Find  naught  but  steep-uprising,  naked  rocks, 
And  grassless  margin,  only  hoofed  by  deer. 
With  little  at  the  first,  we've  nothing  left. 
However,  welcome;  what  we  can,  we  will. 

Hilton. 
We  owe  you  thanks;  your  family — is  it  large? 
You  must  not  rifle  them  to  furnish  us. 

Hildebrand. 
Quite  small ;  myself,  my  wife,  my  girl,  Elise. 

Hilton. 
Happy  is  he  whom  War  finds  without  sons ! 
For  even  angels  look  with  pity  on 
A  father's  empty  quiver,  when  his  arrows. 
One  by  one,  are  shivered  to  the  dreadful  clouds. 
Clanged  from  the  bow  of  War ! 
You  have  no  sons? 

Hildebrand. 
I  have — ^two  brave  Missouri  boys;    dear  God! 
These  eyes  have  not  beheld  them  since  the  War 
Cut  from  the  leash,  with  fratricidal  hand. 
Those  two  blood-hounds.  Secession  and  Invasion! 
Both  brave — one  on  the  rise  of  eighteen  years. 
The  other  younger  still,  next  to  Elise. 
The  flame  of  War  broke  out ;  I  was  for  peace. 
*Boys,'  said  I,  T'm  not  bound  to  side  with  either; 
The  war  is  wicked,  woeful,  unrequired ; 
Rebellion,  without  cause,  lights  up  the  South, 
Coercion,  without  law,  inspires  the  North. 
If  on  a  boat  beneath  the  mad-star's  light. 
My  comrades  lose  their  reason,  and  begin 
To  rave  and  cut  each  other's  throats  in  hate, 
Shall  I,  who  have  escaped  the  malady. 
Feign  madness,  too,  and  like  my  comrades,  foam. 
And  join  their  maniac  festival  of  rage. 
And  death,  crime,  blood,  and  senseless   fury? 
As  for  myself,'  said  I,  T  stand  aloof; 
141 


And  though  I  stood  alone  (and  yet  I  hope 
I  stand  not  thus,)  it's  all  the  same,'  said  I, 
Though  it  should  be  the  world  to  Hildebrand. 
But  boys,'  said  I,  'I've  raised*  you  free  to  choose 
Your  course  in  life ;     if  either,  or  if  both 
See  not  his  duty  as  mine  shines  to  me — 
Choose  differently;    take  up  your  guns  and  go; 
Go  to  the  right  or  left,  as  conscience  points ; 
Go  with  a  father's  blessing,  if  you  must. 
Or  stay  and  share  his  armed  neutrality!' 
But  youth,  the  drum  and  fife,  the  cry  to  arms. 
Outweighed  an  old  man's  arguments,  and  both 
Have  gone.     The  elder,  loving  order  more, 
(And  siding  with  his  mother.  Northern  born,) 
To  battle  for  the  Union ;    the  younger, 
(Who  listened  more  to  rebel  Elise,  there, 
Who  with  the  fooHsh  logic  of  a  girl, 
Supposed  the  weaker  cause  therefore  the  nobler,) 
Went  with  their  relative,  old   Price. 
And  thus  in  two  long  years,  sadder  than  long. 
What  chance  of  ruthless  war — death — prison  walls. 
Shorn  limbs,  or  broken  health  in  hospital — 
They  may  have  met,  alas,  we  do  not  know — 
Perchance  shall  never  know,  or  see  them  more; 
All    wrong!     all   wrong!  dear    God,    all    wrong! 
this  war! 

Elise. 
O!  father,  let  us  hope  the  best! 

Hildebrand. 

Always ! 
1st  Soldier.     [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
That  gal's  a  fine  critter! 

2nd  Soldier. 

Tarnation  nice! 

*This  word  raise  for  rear  is  so  used  extensively  in  Missouri. 
142 


Cheap  John. 
Mine  Got!     she  shmack  her  eye  et  the  Gabden! 
And  he  Uke  dot ! 

Hilton. 
[Aside]  Could  I  escape  this  cup ! 

Elise. 
I  will  not  let  my  father  hopeless  grow, 
Pleading,  no  night  without  its  coming  dawn. 
No  cloud,  without  a  heaven  to  sail  in! 

Hilton. 
[Aside]  O,  angel,  what  would  I  endure  for  you ! 
Miss  Hildebrand,  no  monster  is  before  you. 
But  a  soldier,  who  became  such  for 
The  flag;  and  being  under  discipline. 
Have  duties  far  more  stern  than  taking  life — 

Hildebrand. 
Make  no  apology — I  see  the  drift. 
I  am  again  to  be  paroled? 

Hilton. 

Worse  still — 
You  have  been  drafted ! 

Elise. 
Did  there  ever  yet 
A  man  come  on  a  mission  so  unworthy ! 

Hilton. 
Nay,  pity  me,  if  what  I  do  seem  harsh — 
My  honor,  my  command,  and  self-respect, 
Yourselves! — all  lost  without  obedience; 
But  yield,  and  go  with  us — 
Hildebrand. 

I  am  paroled — 
Past  age  and  disaffected  to  your  cause ; 
You  cannot  make  me  fight  against  my  will — 
Why  should  you  take  me,  or  I  go? 
Elise. 

O,  shame! 
You  used  deception  in  your  first  address — 
143 


Was  this  obedience   too?     O,  Captain  Hilton! 

Hilton. 
Report  has  done  you  great  injustice,  Sir; 
She  gave  you  out  as  stern,  implacable, 
Impatient,  violent,  and  rude  of  speech ' 
I,  therefore,  opened  softly,  measuring 
My  way  until  at  length,  I  find  my  heart 
A  mutineer;  my  will  half  rebel  to — 
My  soul  abhorrent  of  the  thing  I  must; 
I  must  obey;    you  must  report  with  me. 

Hildebrand. 
Who  is  your  general? 

Hilton. 

O'Neil! 
Hildebrand. 

No  hope ! 

Hilton. 
For  me  to  fail  to  bring  you  in  were  not 
A  kindness,  for  O'Neil  is  stern — nay  cruel; 
They  have  reported  you  disloyally 
To  him,  and  dangerous  within  his  lines. 
Should  I,  in  your  behalf,  omit  my  duty, 
Some  one  more  rash  would  make  my  failure  good. 

Hildebrand. 
Then  be  it  so !     You  shall  find  Hildebrand, 
(Despite  reports,)  knows  how  to  yield  to  force. 
[Aside.]    When  wary  strategy  leaves  no  recourse ! 
Come,  let  your  men  outside  dismount  and  feed; 
Elise  shall  entertain  you  while  we  give 
To  horses  that  which  some  deny  to  men. 
Come  gentle-men! 

[Exeunt   Hildebrand   and  the  dragoons,  to  feed 
the  horses.] 

Hilton. 
Angel  of  beauty,  grace  and  innocence! 
A  soldier  but  a  man,  what  shall  I  do? 
Never  till  now  the  panic  we  call  Love, 
144 


Did  put  to  flight  my  presence  of  mind. 
And  his  recruits;    your  eye  is  on  me; 
Do,  act,  think  for,  pity  and  command  me. 
Say  that  I  fail ;     O'Neil  dishonors  me, 
Enrolls  your  father,  and  may  covet  you ! 
When  I  am  dusk,  because  I  can't  give  day, 
O'Neil  will  be  midnight;     What  shall  I  do ! 

Elise. 
I  am  worse  off  than  you — our  danger  equal ! 
You  do  not  know — 

[Aside]    Alas,  what  shall  I  say! 
What  I  might  say,  I  cannot  utter  now 
God  guide  us  through  these  troublous  times ! 

Hilton. 
O,  Elise!     my  sweet  dove — 

Eliw. 

I  cannot  listen — 
In  these  dark  days,  remember  walls  have  ears. 
I  am  the  daughter  of  John  Hildebrand! 
Between  us  rolls  a  sea  of  angry  war. 
Shoreless,  and  rich  with  souls  of  murdered  men ! 
Forget  this  sudden  light — which  now  is  over! 
I  am  myself!  be  you  that  which  you  were! 
Come  danger!  welcome  fate!  come  Hildebrand! 

[Upon  a  signal  in  the  next  room,  Kate  suddenly 
closes  the  door.  Enter  Hildebrand  from  behind 
mlth  drawn  revolver.] 

Hildebrand. 
Hilton,  you  are  my  prisoner,  and  hostage! 
Your  men  outside  attack  my  house?    you  die! 
Bid  them  disperse — ^you  live.     I  have  the  drop. 
And  never  man  too  quick  for  Hildebrand! 

Hilton. 
Elise,  your  prayer  is  answered,  we're  reHeved. 
I  fold  my  arms,  and  let  what  will  befall. 
I  smile  at  your  excitement,  Hildebrand, 
Your  muzzle  makes  me  calmer  than  before. 
145 


Elise. 
Be  patient,  Father,  and  do  nothing  rash ! 
I  take  my  stand  between  the  host  and  hostage ! 
Give  but  the  order  that  these  troops  disperse, 
And  we  shall  summon  time  to  think! 

Hilton. 
Nay,  I  demand  that  he  shall  murder  me. 
I  will  not  be   disgraced.  [Firing  without.] 

Cheap  John.       [Without  in  a  loud  voice.] 
Von  hail  of  schnap  out  here !  de  tam 
Repels  pitch  us  into,  mit  tousand  men ! 

Hilton. 
Elise,  your  prayer  is  answered;      we're  relieved. 
I  only  proffer  now  one  soldier's  wish : 
Let  me  command  my  men. 
Elise. 

If  you  do  this. 
You  are  acquit  of  discipline  and  duty. 
They  came  to  capture  us  as  loyalists; 
Say  you  defended  and  repulsed ! 
Hildebrand. 
He  can't  escape  this  house  till  I  am  free ! 
If  he  defeat  the  rebels,  he'll  return ; 
If  they  defeat  him,  woe  to  me  and  mine ! 

Hilton. 
No,  no! — 

Elise. 
Defeating  them,   releases  him 
From  taking  you  and  we  get  time  to  think. 
Release  him,  Father,  EHse  asks. 
Hildebrand. 

EHse 
Is  law.     Go,  Hilton,  go!     Your  men  command! 
The  Devil  urge  the  fight,  prays  Hildebrand! 

[Exit  Hilton,   amid  heavy  firing  all  around  the 
house.] 


146 


Scene  III.  Grove  in  front  of  Hildebrand^s  cottage. 
Hildehrand  and  Elise  converse  apart^  while  Kate 
ministers  to  his  two  wounded  sons,  one  in  Confed- 
erate y  the  other  in  Federal  uniform. 

Hildehrand. 
And  has  it  come  to  this !  my  noble  boys— 
My  offshoots  braver  than  the  parent  oak — 
The  elder  dying,  and  the  yomiger  maimed — 
Destined,  I  fear,  to  die  of  his  deep  wounds; 
I  side  with  neither,  and  am  slain  for  both; 
O,  Reason !  Patience !  Charity  of  Christ ! 
Where  were  ye  then,  when  Hate  mikenneled  War? 

Elise. 
Be  calmer.  Father!      I  have  prayed  with  Charlie, 
And  a  sweet  repose  of  patience  after  prayer 
Has  settled  on  his  face ;     I  know  him  dying — 

Hildehrand. 
Yes,  dying,  Elise;  and  his  brother  will  not  live. 
I  tell  you,  girl,  there's  something  tameless  in  me, 
Howls  like  a  wolf  for  these  two  wounded  whelps; 
Crackles  like  prairie  lengths  of  rolling  fire — 
Cries  in  the  mountain  fastnesses — 
Laments  in  Ozark  from  his  every  crag — 
Rings  like  a  rifle-shot ;     I've  borne  enough ! 
For  you,  dear  lad,  empanophed  in  gray, 
With  silver  ornaments  for  sacrifice. 
For  you,  my  oldest,  darling,  part  of  me. 
Bleeding  to  death,  shall  I  have  no  revenge? 
Let  them  beware !     I  too  was  born  for  war ! 
Hereafter  Blue  or  Gray  that  comes  in  shot — 

Elise. 
O,  Father,  I  too  feel  resentment  keen. 
But  patient  suffering  of  wrong  alone. 
And  perseverance  in  a  course  of  right, 
Through  every  rude  vicissitude  of  life. 
Wins  favor  from  an  all-just  God! 
147 


Hildebrand. 
EUse! 

Sweet  angel,  let  us  go  and  see  the  end — 
Let  us  go  and  close  the  eyes  of  these  dear  boys. 
I  did  not  question  them ;  they  did  not  come 
To  do  their  father  wrong,  I  know ;  the  fight 
Once  on,  each  came  to  reinforce  his  comrades. 
Neither  knew  whither;  and  fell,  perhaps, 
Each  by  his  brother's  aim!     A  surgeon! 
I  must  bring  a  surgeon,  or  I  lose  them. 

EUse. 
The  roads  are  full  of  bands  of  hostile  men, 
The  paths  are  picketed,  or  closely  watched — 

Hildebrand. 
Can  they  cut  off  a  fox  by  picketing, 
Or  guarding  public  roads,  keep  from  her  nest 
The  wild  turkey,  or  pheasant  from  the  hill? 
No,  I  will  off,  at  once ;  let  me  again 
Re-father  these  dear  wounds,  and  see  what  hope ; 
Kate  calls  it  sleeping,  Elise,  this  of  Charlie, 
But,  daughter,  he  will  never  wake  again : 
God  take  my  baby;  he  is  dead! 
[Exeunt f  in  different  directions.] 

Scene  IV.     The  same.     Hildebrand^ s   cottage   in 
ashes.     Present:     Dorchester ^  Harry    Clinebell. 
Dorchester. 
Well,  this  is  rough ;     what  had  he  done? 

Clinebell. 
Done  nothing! 
That's  what's  the  matter. 

Dorchester. 
Thought  he  was  paroled? 

Clinebell. 
And  so  he  was,  I  think. 

Dorchester, 
And  so  am  I, 

148 


And  yet  no  week,  but  I  am  overhauled. 

Clinebell. 
The  rebels  have  conscripted  me  these  two  months, 
Once  I  have  gone  a  Federal  substitute : 
Twice  I've  deserted  and  escaped ;     got  used 
To  being  shot  at,  as  a  thing  of  course; 
But  this,  I  say,  is  rather  rough. 
Dorchester. 
Damned  rough! 

[Enter  Hildebrand,    with    the   Doctor.] 
Hildebrand. 
Can  I  believe  these  eyes !     where  is  my  house? 
My  wife — my  children — Elise !      Answer  me. 
My  neighbor,  Dorchester,  my  nephew,  Clinebell! 
Answer  — ^what  is  this? 

Clinebell, 
Uncle,  it  is  war! 

Dorchester. 
They've  ruined  you ;     I  think  it  was  the  Yankees, 
I  saw  the  smoke,  and  placed  it  near  your  house. 
Avoiding  the  main  road,  I  took  bypaths. 
And  from  a  rock  that  overlooked  the  road, 
I  saw  a  company  of  horse — 

Hildebrand. 
My  wife — my  children — 
My  daughter,  and  my  babies — saw  you  aught. 
Or  know  you  aught  of  them?     Speak,  man ! 

Dorchester. 
Nothing! 

Clinebell. 
Yonder  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  there  are 
Two  graves  fresh  dug — 

Hildebrand. 
My  boys — my  precious  boys — ! 

[Enter  a  neighbor.] 
1st  Neighbor. 
Here's  sorry  work  for  you,  friend  Hildebrand. 
149 


I  saw  the  company  that  did  this  harm, 
And  questioned  some  that  fell  behind — 

Hildebrand. 
My  wife! 

Elise!    where  in  God's  name  are  they? 
Speak  out! 

1st  Neighbor. 
I  saw  them  both,  but  dare  not  speak  to  them, 
For  they  were  guarded  as  close  prisoners. 

Hildebrand. 
Whose  company? 

1st  Neighbor. 
I  heard  the  name — let's  see — 

Hildebrand. 
Hilton! 

1st  Neighbor. 
That  has  its  sound ;     I  think  it  was — Hinton. 

Hildebrand. 
Come,  frankly,  friend,  what  heard  you  of  my 

daughter? 
Her  treatment,  and  her  mother's — speak ! 

1st  Neighbor. 
You  know 
What  soldiers  are — outrage —      [Shaking  his  head.] 

Hildebrand. 
Death,  and  hell's  breath ! 

Do  you  know  aught,  or  don't  you  know — speak  out. 
Don't  crucify  me  with  a  wagging  head ! 

1st  Neighbor. 
I  nothing  know  for  certain :     but  here  is 
A  printed  bill  I  took  down  from  the  mill  door; 
By  it  you  see  how  you  are  held  in  camp. 
Hildebrand.     [Reading  aloud.] 

FIVE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD! 

John  Hildebrand 

Has  been  declared  in  Special  Orders  No.  6,  a  Bush- 

150 


whacker  and  Guerilla.  The  above  reward  will  be 
paid  for  his  apprehension.  He  is  about  fifty  years 
of  age;  in  height  about  six  feet,  two  inches;  re- 
markably straight,  broad-shouldered,  and  deep- 
chested;  his  hair,  whiskers  and  moustache  are  very 
black;  wears  his  hair  long  and  flowing  over  his 
neck.  Supposed  to  be  concealed  in  Ozark  moun- 
tain. The  above  reward  for  his  capture  and  deliv- 
ery at  these  headquarters — dead  or  alive. 

O'Neil. 

Hildebrand. 
Ah,  yes,  and  twice  that  sum  for  you,  O'Neil, 
Nay,  four  times  that  reward  from  Hildebrand ! 
Ha !  ha !     my  sons  would  not  suflSce  for  you. 
You  must  have  Elise,  too,  and  Kate,  my  wife. 
And  now  five  hundred  dollars  for  myself! 

[Enter  2d  Neighbor.] 
Whom  have  we  here.'^ 

M  Neighbor. 
My  God,  they've  gone  for  you ! 

Hildebrand. 
What  of  my  daughter,  Elise,  and  her  mother  ? 
Do  you  know  aught  of  them? 

M  Neighbor. 
Except  reports — 

Hildebrand. 
Out  with  them,  friend;  what's  done  is  past  recall; 

M  Neighbor. 
Some  say  your  wife  is  dead    from    fright — ^your 
daughter — 

Hildebrand. 
What  of  my  daughter,  Elise — speak! 

M  Neighbor. 
The  worst — 

Hildebrand. 
How  heard  you  this?     By  God,  this  is  not  so ! 
Dare  you  to  trifle — 

151 


M  Neighbor. 
You  asked  me  what  was  said — 
I  spit  it  out  to  you.     Myself  know  nothing. 
Here  is  a  handbill. 

Hildebrand,      [Reading    aloud.] 

AN  OUTLAW! 
John  Hildebrand,  having  notoriously  violated 
his  Confederate  parol,  and  entrapped  a  whole  Con- 
federate company  into  ambush  near  his  house,  in 
which  many  gallant  soldiers  lost  their  lives,  in- 
cluding his  own  son,  is  proclaimed  an  Outlaw, 
and  it  is  hereby  made  the  duty  of  every  soldier  in 
this  command  to  kill  him  on  sight. 

M.  J.  Thompson, 
Commanding.  Mo.  Volunteers. 
Hildebrand. 
Yes,  you  are  right,  Jeff!    that's  the  word      Out- 
law! 
No  wife,  no  sons,  no  daughter,  and  no  country! 
A  homeless  man,  is  but  a  prisoner 
At  large,  and  when  bereft  of  hope  an — Outlaw! 
They  first  describe,  then  make  me  what  I  am ; 
They  want  me — let  them  come  and  take  me ! 
As  soon  shall  these  tall  pines  take  wing. 
To  fling  their  tassels  in  the  morning  clouds — 
As  soon  shall  Pilot's  rocks  uncrag  their  spires. 
And  melt  into  the  bosom  of  the  plain. 
Or  the  smooth  prairie  heave  escarped  breasts 
Of  rock-ribbed  flint,  and  never-wearing  stone. 
As  Hildebrand  surrender  or  forego 
The  pleasure  of  an  Outlaw's  sweet  revenge ! 
Here  from  these  ashes  take  I  up  the  gauntlet. 
And  in  the  sign  of  Hate,  will  ride  the  storms; 
While  by  yon  newly  rumpled  graves  I  swear 
Eternal  vengeance  to  both  uniforms. 
And  death  to  all  that  wear! 
152 


Dcyrchester.       [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
He's  right!    you  have  his  blood,  CHnebell,  how 
say  you? 

CHnebell. 
I  care  not  for  his  blood — why  speak  of  blood? 
There  is  no  daddyism  in  Missouri ! 

Hildebrand. 
How  say  you,  friends !    this  mount  belongs  to  us 
By  muniment  of  title;     shall  we  not  deff'nd  it? 
Set  up  a  small  republic  for  ourselves — 
An  island  in  this  raging  sea  of  war, 
Where  God  shall  find  a  refuge  for  a  crew, 
That  will  not  fight  except  in  self-defence? 

All. 
Yes,  let  us  hold  Ozark! 

Hildebrand. 
We  dwelt  here  mountaineers. 
Far  from  the  caldron  party-spirit  boils — 
Free  as  our  crystal  springs,  or  atmosphere; 
We  loved  the  Union,  and  our  State  no  less, 
We  saw  no  cause  for  war,  and  made  no  outcry; 
We  had  few  slaves,  nor  cared  to  fight  for  them. 
Yet  knew  no  right  to  challenge  those  who  owned. 
We  were  for  peace,  and  all  that  made  for  it — 
In  peace,  the  cities — towns — derided  us. 
Dragooned,  conscripted,  harried  us  in  war — 
Nay  waste,  destroy,  impress,  proscribe,  and  slay! 
What  shall  we  do? 

All. 
Take  arms,  and  fight  to  death ! 

Hildebrand. 
The  draft  drags  men  to  fight  for  what  they  loathe. 
Conscription  robs  the  cradle  and  the  grave. 
Desertion,  child  of  both,  brings  many  men 
Whom  desperation  should  engender  brave. 
To  find  a  refuge  in  this  mountain  fastness; 
We  can  enshefter  these,  and  raise  an  army; 
153 


And  like  a  lighthouse,  on  the  coast  of  war, 
Our  flag  shall  flame,  conspicuously  bright, 
Inviting  sanctuary  to  deserters; 
One  only  star  in  universal  darkness — 
One  island  safe  agatnst  the  sea  of  rage. 
Which  spreads  from  hell's  enlargement! 
Who  then  shall  be  your  leader? 

All. 
Hildebrand! 
We'll  arm  and  follow  you ! 

Hildebrand. 
Then  be  it  so! 

An  Outlaw  shall  enforce  what  law  we  save. 
And  make  a  sanctuary,  or  a  grave !  [Exeunt.] 


154 


ACT  II 

Scene  I.  Hildehrand's  tent  in  a  gorge  of  Ozark. 
Present:  Hildebrand  and  Clinehell,  in  front  of 
the  tent. 

Clinebell. 
Uncle,  do  you  expect  dispatches  from 
The  sun  or  moon,  you  gaze  so  in  the  sky? 

Hildebrand. 
No,  boy,  I*m  looking  for  my  sentinel. 

Clinebell. 
The  devil.  Uncle — a  sentry  in  the  sky? 
We  read  of  pickets  flying,  but  I  never  heard 
Of  signal  stations  sailing  on  the  air. 
Is  it  a  kite? 

Hildebrand. 
No  kite — a  nobler  bird! 

Clinebell. 
If  not  a  kite,  a  buzzard? 

Hildebrand. 
Guess  again! 

Clinebell. 
A  goose — the  breed  that  once  stood  guard  for  Rome 

Hildebrand. 
A  nobler  bird. 

Clinebell. 
Aye,  nobler  he  may  be, 
Not  wiser  I  will  guarantee. 

Hildebrand. 
Yes,  wiser — 

Come  here;  you  see  him  rising  now  above 
155 


That  crag  that  beetles  over  the  river-road? 

ClinebelL      [Following  E's  finger  with  his  eye.] 
An  eagle!     pshaw!     I  thought  you  said  a  wiser. 
Did  you  ever  know  a  goose  destroy  her  young, 
As  I  have  known  an  eagle? 

Hildebrand. 
Boy,  you  wrong  him; 
It  was  a  vulture  you  mistook  for  one; 
It  is  the  fashion  to  confound  their  natures. 
But  now  give  eye  to  yon  imperial  bird, 
And  I  will  teach  you  to  interpret  him. 
Above  yon  canyon  on  the  right — beneath  a  crag. 
Whose  head  is  scarcely  visible,  you  see 
Adown  the  cliff  a  skein  of  glittering  white, 
Which  you  would  call  a  virgin  flake  of  snow. 
Hid  in  the  cleft,  and  nestled  in  itself. 
Safe  from  the  fusion  of  the  summer  sun. 
This  glass  betrays  its  motion  and  its  nature — 
A  slender  cataract,  white  as  the  snow; 
Upon  the  left  of  it  you  see  a  spot, 
Dark-circular;  that  is  the  eagle's  nest. 
He  does  not  leave  it,  till  the  morning  sun 
Supplies  the  light  the  mountain  shades  withhold; 
Experience-taught,  he  sails  where  man  or  beast, 
Or  life  is  soonest,  and  most  surely  found — 
Out  to  the  road — where  trees  are  cut  away. 
There,  circling  round  and  round,  he  is  my  sentry; 
If  living  thing  he  sees,  he  stops :    if  man, 
His  wing  is  upward  turned  for  higher  flight; 
This  is  his  instinct,  for  there  may  be  danger; 
If  brute,  he  lowers,  for  there  may  be  prey; 
If  man,  and  only  one,  first  having  risen, 
He  slowly  lowers,  and  at  a  distance  follows; 
It  is  a  hunter,  and  whoever  hunts 
May  wound  his  game,  or  leave  some  bits  of  food; 
But  if  the  roadsters  number  more  than  one, 
The  eagle  veers,  and  westward  wings  his  flight; 

156 


He  hates  all  soldiers,  and  argues  these  are  such; 
The  hunter  has  no  time,  nor  ball  to  waste; 
Not  so  the  idle,  lawless,  vagrant  soldier — 
The  government  his  reckless  purveyor. 
In  wanton  sport  he  wings  the  royal  eagle, 
To  try  his  aim,  or  show  his  lazy  skill. 
And  thus  I  watch  my  airy  sentinel. 
And  find  his  instinct  tutor  to  my  reason. 

[After  an  interval] 
Behold,  he  pauses;  now  goes  higher  up; 
There  is  a  human  step  upon  the  road ; 
Ha!    they  are  soldiers!     I  must  look  to  this! 

[Exit.] 

Clinebell.  [Alone.] 
Fee,  fo,  fum! 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Enghshmun! 
And  dead  or  alive,  I  must  have  some! 
Uncle!     Uncle!     You're  on  the  war  trail  now. 
The  leader  of  as  keen  a  pack  of  hounds 
As  ever  scented  blood.     But  devil  the  odds. 

[Whistles.] 
There  was  some  error  in  my  uncle's  fate; 
He  was  intended  for  a  Seminole, 
And  fell  from  grace,  ere  Nature  painted  him. 
The  Indians  would  have  worshipped  him,  and 

called  him 
Eat-Meat-Raw-and-Swallow-the-Blood  Jack ! 
No  white  man  ever  waged  such  war  as  this! 
Uncle!    there  never  was  an  Indian  yet. 
But  lost  the  pale-face  battle  in  the  end! 
But  f  al  lal !     who  cares  ? 

[Sings.] 

Bertha!     O,  Bertha! 

My  sweet  Missouri  flower. 
Heard  you  the  bugles  call 
Horsemen  to  saddles  all? 

167 


I  must  away  this  hour! 

Fly  along  the  mountains, 
Raid  adown  the  plain, 
Speed  across  the  prairie, 

Blow  again!     again! 

Bertha!     O,  Bertha! 

Persuade  me  not  to  stay ! 
Heard  you  the  bugles  call, 
Horsemen  to  saddles  all? 
I  must  away — away ! 

Fly  along  the  mountains. 
Raid  adown  the  plain. 
Speed  across  the  prairie, 
Blow  again!     again! 


[ExU.] 


Scene    II.     Same    place.    Present:    HUdebrand 
and  Clinebell. 

Hildebrand. 
I  see  you're  merry,  Harry;  so  am  I; 
Ha!     ha!     we  had  fine  sport,  and  furious. 
I  took  my  stand  upon  'Defiance  Rock,' 
And  with  my  glass  swept  down  the  river-road. 
Just  as  my  sentinel  foretold,  I  saw 
A  troop,  on  jaded  horses,  winding  toward  us; 
I  ordered  Dorchester  to  follow  me ; 
I  flew  to  him,  and  posted  fifty  men; 
The  work  was  quick,  and  sharp,  and  spirited; 
They  did  not  even  guess  approaching  danger. 
The  devil  took  the  hindmost,  I  suppose. 
For  we  took  all  in  front. 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]      Then  the  devil  took  the  foremost,  too! 

Hildebrand. 
One  of  my  men — I  know  not  who  it  was — 
Fired  just  before  the  word — ^too  quick  a  minute — 
168 


And  SIX  or  seven  of  the  troop  escaped. 
Before  we  could  enclose  them. 

Clinebell. 
They  were  rebels? 

Hildebrand. 
No,  Federals;  ten  left  we  in  the  gorge. 
And  five  captured,  and  spared  by  Dorchester, 
Let  them  be  listed,  Harry,  and  then — 

Clinebell. 
Shot! 

Hildebrand. 
Of  course!    when  have  I  spared  a  prisoner 
Captured  from  either  band  of  ruffians  seen 
Approaching  Ozark,  the  five  days  that  here 
Around  his  rugged  breast  our  tents  have  stood. 
And  o'er  his  front,  our  neutral  flag  of  flame? 
Would  they  spare  us?     No,  no,  we  are  outlaws — 
With  no  heart  to  spare ! 

Clinebell. 
Even  so,  Uncle! 
We  have  no  heart — ^to  spare! 
Leave  them  to  me! 

Hildebrand. 
I  must  have  rest;  an  hour's  sleep,  and  then, 
Look  to  forage  and  commissariat. 
It's  neck  or  nothing  with  me  on  these  points; 
I  am  almost  at  the  end  of  my  rope!     [Exit  Hilde- 
brand.] 

Clinebell. 
You  will  be  quite  there  very  soon,  my  Uncle, 
If  my  foreboding  should  be  realized; 
I  wonder  that  *rope'  stuck  not  in  your  throat! 
God  grant  it  stick  not  (or  slip-knot)  around  it! 
But  hither  come  our  prisoners ! 

[Enter  four  Federal  prisoners  including  Captain 
Hilton,  under  strong  guard.] 


IfiO 


Clinehell  [to  1st  Prisoner.] 
What  is  your  name? 

1st  Prisoner, 
I  will  not  give  it  to  you. 

ClinebelL 
All  right;  you  shall  be  shot  anonymously. 
Take  him  away! 

[Exit  1st  prisoner  between  two  soldiers.] 
Clinehell  [to  2d  Prisoner.] 
Give  me  your  name  and  birthplace? 

2d  Prisoner. 
George  Horn.       I  hail  from  Maine;  but  I  have 

friends 
Both  North  and  South,  who,  did  they  know  my 

peril. 
Would  ransom  me. 

Clinehell. 
Promotion  comes  not  from 
The  East  nor  West,  and  neither  from  the  South; 
The  horns  of  the  wicked  also  shall  be  cut  off! 
Away  with  him ! 

2d  Prisoner. 
You  will  not  have  me  murdered? 

Clinehell. 
Tie  weights  to  his  feet,  that  he  may  look  straight  up 
And  put  no  trust  in  friends,  or  princes. 

[Exit  2d  prisoner  between  two  soldiers.] 
3d  Prisoner. 
I  am  a  gentleman,  and  claim  the  treatment 
My  gentle  birth  demands! 

ClinebelL 
Blue  blood,  good  fellow? 
Such  you  shall  have — ^no  blows,  no  ugly  rope! 
A  courtly  escort  with  a  squad  of  men. 
Shall  recognize  your  rank,  and  with  a  bow. 
The  captain  shall  take  formal  leave  of  you, 

160 


And  send  you,  with  all  courtesy,  to  hell ! 

[Exit  3d  prisoner  between  two  soldiers.] 

Clinebell. 
And  where  did  you  enlist,  my  friend? 

Jfth  Prisoner. 
Nowheres. 

Clinebell. 
And  under  no  name,  I  suppose ! 
Jfth  Prisoner. 
I  am  an  Irishman,  by  name;  by  birth 
They  call  me  Jimmy  0*Gorge,  of  county  Kork: 
I  didn't  list  at  all,  at  all — but  like 
A  pathriot,  a  substitute  I  came, 
And  sorra  to  the  day  I  did ! 

Clinebell. 
Ah,  Jimmy! 

A  substitute?     I  give  you  just  ten  minutes 
To  summon  here  your  coward  principal. 
That  he  may  suffer  death  in  proper  person. 
And  take  his  place  in  purgatory. 

Jfth  Prisoner. 
I  see.  Sirrah,  I  see !         Yees  wants  to  shoot 
Me  principal,  and  I'm  to  go  for  him ! 

Clinebell. 
Just  so!     I'm  going  to  shoot  your  principal — 
Vicariously.     I  will  write  to  him  and  say. 
Consider  you  are  shot,  in  your  own  person; 
For  he  that's  through  another  shot,  is  shot  himself. 

Jfth  Prisoner. 
Mesilf  will  take  the  letther  for  yees ! 

Clinebell. 
Thank  you! 

I  wish  to  post  you  to  a  warmer  climate! 
Along  with  him! 

[Exit  Jfth  prisoner  between  two  soldiers,] 

Clinebell. 

[Aside]      I'll  humor  this  captain  till  I  get  his  watch 

161 


Before  these  ragamuffins  go  through  him. 

[Aloud]      Now  Captain,  give  me  your  name  and 

command, 
You  know  that  war  is  war. 
Hilton. 
My  men  were  ambushed. 
And  fell  before  they  knew  themselves   beset; 
Of  this,  being  by  lawful  chance  of  war, 
I  offer  no  complaint;  but,  ruffian. 
Why  do  you  butcher  unarmed  prisoners? 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]      The  chain  is  solid  gold,  or  I'm  a  Jew ! 
[Aloud]     You  questioned  me?    I  am  a  little  absent 
Excuse  me,  and  repeat. 

Hilton. 
I  questioned  thus : 

You  rebels — traitors  to  your  government — 
Is  it  not  enough  to  raise  your  hostile  arm, 
Against  your  lawful  President  and  liege. 
But  dare  you  murder  prisoners  of  war, 
Like  savage  Indians? 

Clinebell. 
What  would  you  with  us. 
Had  we  fallen  in  your  loyal  hands? 
Are  we  not  outlawed  by  your  President? 

Hilton. 
Deserters — cowards — traitors — though  your  lives 
Are  forfeit  to  the  law,  and  to  the  Union, 
Cease  murdering — come  in  and  sue  for  mercy. 
And  you  may  yet  be  pardoned,    as    were  your 

leaders — 
Your  Lee,  and  all  the  lesser  ranks,  whose  pardon. 
On  terms,  was  granted  by  the  President. 

Clinebell. 
How  mean  you — Lee? 

Hilton. 
Aye,  Lee!    Why,  know  you  not 
162 


That,  all  her  cruel  dream  dissolved  in  air, 
Rebellion  lies  in  the  dust,  crushed  and  bleeding, 
Suing  for  pardon  from  the  outraged  wrongs 
Of  a  victorious.  Union-loving  North? 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]      Not  heard,  but  dreamt! 
[Aloud]      I  have  not  heard,  nor  do  I  credit  it. 
Think  you  to  save  your  life  by  blustering? 
Come  now — your  name ! 

Hilton, 
Hilton — at  your  service. 

Clinebell, 
So  far,  so  good : 
But  is  there  anything  in  this  report? 

Hilton. 
Anything?     I  tell  you — glory  be  to  God! 
There  is  all  in  it ! 

Flashed  over  thousands  of  magnetic  wires, 
That  palpitate  electric  joy  beneath 
The  glorious  import  of  their  messages. 
And  bulletined  where'er  a  press  is  known. 
And  belched,  today,  from  twice  ten  thousand  guns. 
And  shouted  from  a  million  throats,  that  mock 
The  deep,  unmeasured  pathos  of  the  sea — 
There  swells,  and  grows,  and  roars,  resounds  and 

bounds. 
And  leaps  and  echoes  from  the  hills,  and  scales 
All  heights  and  penetrates  the  darkest  wood. 
And  mellows  all  the  meads,  and  vales,  and  glens. 
This  glorious  sound:    The  Union  is  Restored! 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]      Farewell  to  watch — I  must  come  in  for 

terms. 
[Aloud]       That  makes  a  difference;  what  proof 

have  you? 

HiUon, 

There  needs  but  little  proof!    Look  at  the  sun — 

163 


The  sky — see  you  naught  in  the  face  of  Nature 
More  bright  than  hitherto,  that  pubHshes 
RebeUion  as  a  thing  of  yesterday? 
But  if,  purbUnd  with  treason,  you  read  not 
The  alphabet  of  nature,  or  of  God, 
Here  is  a  plainer  mode :    here  is  a  paper 
Which  gives  a  full  account  of  all  that  makes 
The  twelfth  of  May  a  Sabbath  for  all  time, 
And  Appomattox  sound  like  Calvary ! 
Read  for  yourself! 

Clinebell  [taking  the  paper.] 
Ah  well!  let's  have  it  in  plain  Dutch,  Captain — 
Upon  the  whole,  I  much  prefer  to  read 
The  newspaper,  to  looking  at  the  sun — 
'Tis  apt  to  make  one  sneeze.     [Reads.] 

The  Rebels  Crushed! 

General  Lee  Surrenders  all  his  Forces! 

Richmond  Evacuated  and  in  Flames!' 
No  more ;    the  war  is  over  as  you  said ; 
I  never  had  a  memory  for  dates, 
Nor  incidents — therefore,  I'll  read  no  further. 
A  single  line  is  all  we  need  to  know, 
As  single  texts  embody  a  whole  creed. 
The  civil  war  is  over ;    let  us  have  peace ! 
You  were  my  prisoner,  but  now  are  free. 
Should  I  be  yours,  may  you  so  ransom  me. 
There  is  one  Hildebrand  must  know  of  this; 
The  only  man  in  all  this  world,  perchance, 
That  really  cared  not  how  events  might  fall. 
Hating,  and  hated  equally  by  all. 
[Goes  to  the  rear  of  the  tent  and  calls  Hildebrand.] 

[Enter  Hildebrand.] 
Hildebrand. 
What  now?    Why  do  you  call? 

ClinebelL 
There's  news  afloat; 


164 


Here  is  a  paper  vouching  in  details. 
The  statement  which  this  oflScer  has  made; 
The  war  is  over,  amnesty  declared — 
RebelHon  crushed,  and  all  their  forces  taken! 

Hildebrand. 
And  what  have  I  to  do  with  that  result? 
Will  both  now  let  the  honest  mass  alone, 
And  leave  the  people  to  renew  their  friendship, 
Or  shall  we  have  but  fearful  tragedy 
Of  peace,  and  solemn  mockery  of  union? 
Who  is  this  officer? 

Clinebell. 
His  name  is  Hilton. 

Hildebrand. 
Hilton?  Thank  God,  thank  God!  the  hour  is  come. 
Ha!     ha!     the  drinker  of  my  blood  now  mine ! 
Destroyer  of  my  flesh  and  family, 
Down  on  your  marrowbones ! 

[Rising,  draws  his  revolver;  Clinebell  interposes.] 
Clinebell. 
For  shame,  my  uncle! 
He  is  unarmed,  beneath  our  own  tent-cloth ! 

Hilton. 
Nay,  let  him  shoot,  the  outlaw;  here's  my  breast. 

Hildebrand. 
Harry,  away!  but  for  this  hoped  for  hour 
I  would  have  cut  my  wind  that  dreadful  day 
My  house  was  burned,  my  boys,  my  wife  destroyed. 
My  Elise  outraged — 

Hilton. 
Elise?     is  this  a  dream? 
Elise  is  Hildebrand's — 

Hildebrand. 
And  I  am  he! 

I  am  the  husband  of  the  wife  you  slew, 
The  father  of  the  girl  you  outraged ! 


165 


Hilton. 
Outraged? 
Nay,  saved  from  outrage!     Rescuing  her  from 

wrong, 
I  tried  to  save  the  mother,  though  too  late. 
EKse  is  mine,  and — 

Hildebrand. 
Liar,  you  must  die! 
Hell  is  too  shallow  for  my  soul,  should  I 
Relent,  and  fail  to  feed  the  crows  on  you. 
I  tell  you,  you  must  die !     ho  there ! 
Guard!     aside,  Harry!  he  shall  die! 

[Enter  Guard.] 
My  men,  we  did  not  know,  at  first,  the  prize 
Our  recent  capture  furnished  to  our  doors; 
There  stands,  in  bold  defiance  of  our  camp. 
The  basest  of  the  Federal  myrmidons 
That  have  oppressed  with  cruelty  the  soldier; 
One  of  your  proud,  well  furnished  popinjays. 
With  uniform  as  stainless  in  its  blue 
As  his  patrician  blood,  who  never  saw 
A  soldier,  or  a  dog,  but  that  he  cursed  him; 
Who  did  myself  the  favor  to  destroy 
My  wife,  and  violate  my  only  daughter. 
Away  with  him,  forthwith  to  Dorchester! 
Bring  me  his  head,  strapped  to  the  negro  fellow, 
We  killed  today! 

[Exeunt  guard,  dragging  Hilton  with  them.] 
Clinebell. 
[Aside]    Now  is  my  chance,  and  soon 
My  night  of  danger  shall  be  safety's  noon ! 

[Exit,   after  the  guard.] 
Hildebrand  [Alone.] 
So  end  the  lives  of  all  who  dare  encroach, 
With  impious  and  unholy  passion  stirred. 
Upon  the  flowerlike  purity  of  woman ! 
What  other  use  has  human  code  or  canon, 
166 


What  end  more  sacred,  more  approved  of  heaven, 

Than  to  keep  safe  the  ark  of  chastity, 

Which    in  the  sanctuary  marriage  rests? 

And  when  the  laws  are  silent,  'mid  commotion, 

Each  man^  sentinel  of  virtue  stands — 

Each  father,  and  each  brother,  with  a  brand. 

Encircles  his  own  household  gods  with  flame. 

And  says  to  outrage,  or  seduction's  arts, 

This  threshhold  cross,  and  you  shall  surely  die! 

This  to  thy  memory,  Elise,  wai?  due — 

This  sacrifice,  my  child,  thy  injured  fame 

Demanded  for  thee,  at  a  father's  hand; 

For  he  who  could  behold  a  woman's  face. 

Who  kneels,  immaculately  innocent. 

All  passion-stirred,  transformed,  and  beautiful — 

Without  religious,  reverential  awe. 

Deserves  to  die  as  monsters  are  destroyed! 

Heaven  bear  witness  that  Elise  did  soar 

Whole  atmospheres  above  our  ruder  souls; 

Her  character  to  ours  by  God  was  wrought. 

As  finest  porcelain  to  the  common  clay. 

Or  pearl  mosaic  to  grey  marble  floors ! 

In  beauty  like  some  type  of  excellence. 

Preserved  by  faith,  or  providential  care. 

From  all  the  wreck  of  ancient  art. 

Which  followed  in  the  wake  of  barbarous  tribes. 

She  stood  quite  peerless,  like  a  chiseled  form, 

Old-famed,  superb,  and  wonderfully  perfect! 

Her  spirit  was  tempered  as  a  bird  that  sings 

To  greet  the  day,  an  hour  before  its  dawn. 

While  all  the  forest  listens  for  the  music. 

[Enter  a  soldier,  with  Elise  disguised  in  a  Fed- 
eral sergeant's  uniform,] 

Soldier. 
Cap'n,  here's  a  young  snipe  came  a  runnin*  inter 
camp  jist  now — a  deserter — ^wants  to  see  you; 

167 


says  the  bottom's  fell  out — ^the  Confedercy's  gone 
up,  and  hell's  to  pay  generly. 

Hildebrand. 
I  have  heard  the  news,  and  I  am  troubled  now. 
My  boy,  with  other  matters.     Have  you  come 
To  swell  our  ranks? 

Elise. 
[Aside]      How  changed,  how  grey  and  saddened  in 

a  week! 
[Aloud]     I  wish  a  word  in  private. 
Hildebrand  [to  the  soldier.] 

Retire;  and  Harry — 
Not  here?  I  did  not  see  him  go  away — 
Come  now,  my  boy,  what  do  you  want  with  me? 

Elise   [approaching  him.] 
Look  on  me  now,  and  hear  me  call  you — father ! 

Hildebrand  [embracing  her.] 
My  son!  my  youngest!  my  own  lost  and  found; 
My  dead,  or  spirit  of  the  dead,  arisen, 
I  ask  not  whence,  nor  whither — only  feel 
You  are  my  son,  restored  to  me,  your  father! 
A  father's  heart  is  like  a  tideless  sea. 
That  knows  no  reflux  in  its  constancy! 

Elise. 
Father — are  you  deceived  by  this  disguise, 
That  you  behold  lost  Charlie  in  Elise? 
Dear  father,  look  again! 

Hildebrand  [draws  ba/ik.] 

It  cannot  be! 
Poor  broken  flower,  and  have  you  then  survived? 
Come  to  this  lonely  heart — 
Though  desecrated,  still  its  altar-piece, 
And  capable  of  miracles  for  me. 
My  child,  my  child!     Revenge  and  retribution 
By  happy  accident,  have  met  to  make 
This  stormy  bosom  calmer  than  its  wont, 
And  almost  taste  a  momentary  peace; 
168 


Know  then  that  I  have  just  dispatched  to  death, 

Captured  and  overtaken  in  his  crimes, 

That   fiend   that   robbed   you. 

Hilton!     Hilton! 

I've  sent  with  swift  destruction  down  to  hell ! 

Elise. 
Hilton?  then.  Father,  you  have  slain  your  child! 

[A  sharp  ring  of  rifles  is  heard.] 
Hildebrand. 
Of  Hilton,  there  you  hear  the  loud  death  knell; 
Those  trusty  rifles  rang  his  funeral  bell! 

Elise. 
Then  they  have  rung  mine  too !     [She  faints  and 
falls.] 

Hildebrand. 
What  now,  my  child? 
Where  is  the  water  to  restore  this  breath? 

[Sprinkles  her  from  the  camp-can.] 
Open  those  blessed  eyes  of  heavenly  blue. 
More  beautiful  to  me  than  any  fringed 
With  such  dark  drapery  in  all  this  world; 
I  know  not  what  to  think  of  this  strange  freak; 
Revive — that  first,  and  then  for  explanation. 
It  seems  to  me  that  life's  a  skein  of  fate. 
With  darker  threads  predominantly  spun. 
And  that  which  should  prolong  may  sometimes  clip. 
Rocked  on  this  breast,  sweet  child,  revive! 

Elise. 
Where  am  I?     Is  this  but  a  horrid  dream? 
Is  this  my  father — and  where  is  my  husband? 
O,  my  husband !  is  he  in  danger,  and  I  here — 
Let  go !     I  must  away  to  him ! 

[Leaps  from  his  arms  and  flies  the  tent] 
Hildebrand. 

Gone?     gone! 
Let  no  man  say  I  ever  had  a  daughter! 
If  she  could  wed  her  mother's  murderer, 
169 


Or  call  him  lord  who  snatched  with  violence, 
That  gem  of  virtue  which  more  sacredly 
The  modest  guard,  than  fifty  times  their  lives. 
She  is  no  child  of  mine ;     if  gone,  then  gone ! 
For  I  will  not  pursue  a  willing  flight. 
Who  would  not  pause  to  leap  fullbreasted  on 
A  wall  of  bayonets,  or  bowie-knives. 
To  liberate  her,  if  her  will  were  forced ! 

[Enter  ClinebelL] 
Clinebell. 
Dorchester  sends  greeting!  and  says  I  must 
Report  to  you  his  action  for  approval; 
Our  men  hearing  the  general  report. 
Are  seized  with  frenzies  of  delight  at  peace, 
Without  an  aspiration  save  for  pardon; 
They  do  not  wish  to  fight  on  their  own  hook 
Against  America,  but  will  make  terms. 
And  take  the  universal  amnesty; 
So  Dorchester  holds  them  a  parleying. 
And  sends  to  know  what  you  desire. 
Hildebrand. 

This  first: 
Is  Hilton  executed,  as  I  did  command? 
It  were  not  safe  for  any  man  to  dam 
The  course  of  my  revenge ! 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]     Salvation  lies 

The  other  way — so  your  revenge  be  damned! 
[Aloud]      Trust  Dorchester  for  that!  did  you  not 

hear 
The  firing? 

Hildebrand. 
Yes — and  every  sound  was  like 
Soft  music  to  perturbed  spirits — 
Clinebell. 

Now: 
Give  me  my  answer  back  for  Dorchester — 

170 


Were't  not  best  disband  them  peacefully. 
Than  suffer  their  discharge  by  mutiny? 

Hildebrand. 
Yes,  let  them  go;  and  say  to  Dorchester, 
That  you  and  he,  and  all  but  Hildebrand, 
Had  better  go,  and  seek  the  general  terms. 
My  faithful  followers  have  done  enough; 
I  would  not  let  my  lonely  destiny 
Entangle  farther  theirs,  since  without  shame, 
They  can  accomplish  all  they  fought  to  force — 
Their  right  to  live  in  peace,  untaxed  by  war. 
It  is  not  always  those  who  shout  the  loudest. 
And  fling  their  caps  in  air  from  empty  heads. 
And  flaunt  their  tawdry  gonfalons  on  high, 
And  cry  to  trumpets — blow  our  triumphs,  blow! 
To  whom  the  sohd  victory  belongs. 
Else  Christ  himself  were  crucifled  in  vain; 
What  we  have  done  in  Ozark  may  sometime 
Repeat  itself  on  more  extended  field. 
And  tyrants  find  of  all  our  services. 
The  act  of  war  should  be  most  voluntary. 
And  now  farewell ;     and  say  to  all,  farewell ! 
But  one  thing  on  this  earth  concerns  me  more; 
My  child,  Ehse,  or  she  that  once  was  such. 
Deserted  me  because  I  slew  the  man 
That  did  her  violence;     should  she  repent, 
And  wish  to  see  her  father  once  again. 
Bid  her  communicate  with  me  through  Tubal, 
My  former  and  most  faithful  slave,  now  free. 
My  cave,  known  as  the  "Cave  of  Hildebrand," 
From  this  time  forth  shall  be  my  sanctuary; 
Its  public  opening  furnishes  no  clue 
To  that  apartment  where  I  shall  abide ; 
My  secret  entrance  is  to  you  alone. 
Save  Tubal  and  my  lost  Elise,  confided. 
Be  not  ashamed  to  share  the  trust  with  Tubal. 
With  all  his  faults,  as  drunkenness  and  theft, 

171 


I've  never  known  him  to  betray  his  master; 

I  feel  that  he  will  not  go  back  on  me, 

Although  the  keen  distemper  of  the  age 

Turn  white  men  from  the  paths  of  honesty. 

'Tis  better  you  should  not  abide  with  me; 

You're  young,  and  full  of  lusty  strength  of  hope, 

And  tempered — not  burnt  through — by  fire  of  war 

Go  to  the  world,  as  wise  as  it,  but  better! 

For  me,  withered,  branchless,  by  lightning  struck, 

I  am  an  oak,  windshaken,  shattered  all — 

But  let  them  stand  from  under  where  I  fall ! 

Clinebell. 
Uncle,  farewell!    Trust  not  too  much  to  Tubal! 
We  will  obey  your  orders  and  disband. 

[Exit  Clinebell] 


17« 


ACT  III 

Scene  I.  Near  the  secret  entrance  of  Hildebrand's 
Cave.  Present :  Tubal,  with  a  squad  of  colored 
volunteers  sent  to  Captain  Hildebrand. 

Tubal. 
Squar  yoselves  into  a  line  dar,  boys — I'se  gwine  to 
harass  de  smeltitude! 

[They  form  a  line.] 
Fellow  men,  and  brodahs ! 

De  honah  is  fell  on  you  to  surrender  Hilder- 
branch !  I  myself  is  a  small  piece  of  greased  light- 
nin,  done  up  in  brown  paper;  but  I  wants  you  all 
to  hab  de  honah  of  tookin  Hilderbranch,  widout 
me!  Cause  why?  Cause  I  use  to  b'long  to  him; 
and  if  you  all  done  it  wid  me,  I  would  monopulate 
all  de  glory-halleluyah !  Dars  de  cave  where  he 
corn-shells  heself!  He's  an  Out-lord,  a  rip-bill, 
and  a  philopotamus  of  de  deepest  dye!  Which 
one  of  you  all  is  gwine  to  possum-tree  to  lead  de 
way  into  dat  hole  in  de  groun?  Who  is  de  biggest 
patriarch  'mongst  dis  annsusannasty  assembly? 
Now,  don't  all  speak  at  onst! 

[A  dead  silence.] 

[To  the  1st  colored  soldier:]  Does  you  bespoke 
dis  honah? 

[To  the  2d  colored  soldier:]  Does  you  bespoke 
dis  honah? 

[  To  the  3d  colored  soldier:]  Does  you  bespoke 
dis  honah? 

173 


[To  the  Jiih  colored  soldier :\  Now  Joe,  does 
you  copperhend  dis  loud  silence  by  dese  patriarchs. 
I  tell  you  what  it  is,  niggah,  dey  didn't  none  of  'em 
want  to  cut  you  outen  dis  honah !  You's  humani- 
busly  elected  to  lead  de  way  into  dat  cave!  De 
country  aint  nebber  gwine  to  forgit  you  for  it! 
And  your  fore-fadders  yit  unborn  ain't  gwine  to 
forgit  you!  De  childun  of  a  future  generation  is 
gwine  to  look  forrid  to  you  for  an  eggsampelter. 

Jfih    Colored    Soldier. 
Not  much,  dey  aint,  if  dey  speck  me  to  go  dar ! 
Let  dem  childun  go  in  dar  deyselves! 

Tubal 
Come  now,  Joe,  none  dat  nonsense! 

I'se  gwine  forrid  to  de  rear  for  reinforcemens, 
while  you  goes  into  dat  hole  wid  dese  waterants 
of  de  reglar  cullud  merlishy!  Don't  you  spar 
Hildebranch!  But  if  yo'  can't  kill  him,  took  him 
alive;  and  at  the  mealtime  I'll  return  on  hand  wid 
reinf ocemens !  ]Exit  Tubal.] 

1st  Colored  Soldier. 
Now  den.  Tubal  done  gone,who  gwine  into  dat 

cave? 

AU, 
You  is! 

lis? 

You  is! 

Who? 

You! 

1st  Colored  Soldier. 
Not  if  I  know  it!     I  can't  took  Hildebranch! 

All 
Why  couldn't  you  took  him? 

174 


1st  Colored  Soldier. 
All 
1st  Colored  Soldier. 
All 


1st  Colored  Soldier. 
Cause  I*se  left-handed! 

AIL 
Yah!     Yah!     Yah! 

1st  Colored  Soldier. 
I'se  gwine  after  reinfocemens !  [Exit  hurriedly.] 

2d  Colored  Soldier. 
Fellow  man  and  bruddahs ! 

I  perceives  de  law  of  dis  regiment  'quires  de 
highest  ossifer  present  to  be  absent  after  rein- 
focemens! So  I'se  gwine  too.  But  'fore  I  goes 
I  gwine  to  make  you  all  dis  proposhal;  if  you  all 
will  took  Hildebranch,  I  will  divide  de  thousand 
dollar  reward;  or  I'll  divide  de  reward,  if  you  all 
will  took  Hildebranch!  You  can  vote  on  dat;  and 
so  farwell!     Dishabille  'quires  me  to  leff!     [Exit.] 

4th  Colored  Soldier. 
Men  and  bruddahs !     I  scratchulates  you — 

6th  Colored  Soldier. 
Stop  dar!     I  heers  a  noise ! 
AU. 
Whar? 

[Hildebrand  makes  his  appearance  at  the  mouth 
of  his  cave,  flourishing  his  revolver.  Exeunt  Soldiers.] 

Hildebrand. 
[Alone]      Betrayed  by  Tubal — ^him  I  trusted  most 
Who,  when  my  slave,  has  risked  his  life  for  mine. 
Is  this  the  earliest  fruit  of  liberty? 
If  so,  what  will  the  ripened  harvest  be? 
I  wish  I  had  a  sexton  in  my  cave, 
That  he  might  bury  these  damned  crows  as  fast 
As  I  should  kill !     But  to  leave  them  here  to  rot, 
Unhouseled,  is  to  draw  the  condors  down, 
To  indicate  my  cave ;     I'll  let  them  go ! 
Although  my  concsience  smites  for  leniency. 

[After  a  pause.] 
But  no — ^the  calm,  cool  twilight  leads  me  on — 
175 


Away  from  vengeance,  and  away  from  wrong — 
Away  from  war — away  from  riot's  surge — 
From  wreck  eternal  of  our  best  resolves — 
Away  from  Treason,  and  Oppression's  hate — 
Away  from  false  and  sacrilegeous  war — 
Away  from  thought's  tempestuous  sea  of  error — 
Away  from  lust  of  power,  and  from  despair — 
Away  from  all  but  God! 
Here  would  I  pray — a  lone  man  singular, 
And  bent  on  being  isolate,  and  free — 
An  outlaw  banned  by  man,  by  Heaven  itself. 
Though  pitied,  half  discouraged  and  discarded! 
But  thou,  God,  knowest  all  our  issues! 
Thou  seest  whither  all  our  footpaths  tend ! 
O !  teach  Thine  Outlaw  how  to  praise ! 
To  pray  is  natural,  but  to  praise  inspired ! 
Thou  God,art  God,from  dayspring  unto  dayspring ! 
Thou  spakest  worlds,  and  there  were  worlds! 
Thou  madest  a  sign,  and  lo,  how  many  worlds? 
We  do  not  know — we  cannot  prophecy! 
We  call  up  to  the  sky,  and  get  no  voice ! 
Unto  the  harvest-moon,  she  gives  no  sign! 
We  call  the  planets  by  their  names,  no  answer! 
We  hail  the  Sun  by  title;     yet  no  knowledge; 
Orion,  and  the  twinkling  Bear — we  hail; 
We  mark  the  curling  clouds,  and  yet  no  tear! 
We  dip  our  ankles  in  the  flowers ;     no  murmurs ! 
We  call  to  flying  birds,  'Be  still!'     They  stay  not! 
We  say  to  callow  eagles,  'Pause' — no  rest! 
Unto  the  prairie  crying,  we  get  no  sympathy; 
Unto  the  forest,  and  but  hollow  sound — 
Unto  the  spanning  arch  we  speak,  no  utterance — 
We  ask  all  living  things,  and  yet  no  oracle — 
The  stars  too  are  inquired  of,  and  yet  no  voice; 
The  old,  old  stars  are  sought,  without  avail; 
We  strike  upon  the  mountain-side;  no  hint; 
To  the  lightning,  say  we:  'Tell  it  us!'  in  vain; 
176 


And  from  the  blushes  of  disclosing  morn, 

No  meaning  ever  comes — 

And  to  the  roaring  cataract :  *  What  knowest  thou?' 

And    no    intelligence; 

And  to  Missouri,  foaming  like  the  fretted  sea — 

And  to  his  roar  eternal,  and  immeasurably  grand, 

We  call,  and  no  allusion! 

And  yet  we  know  there  is  a  God, 

From  dayspring  unto  dayspring.  Thou  art  He! 

Take  thou  my  hand ! 

God  made,  God  take,  God  pity  Hildebrand! 

[Exitf  re-entering  his  cave.] 

Scene  II. — In  Ozark.     ClinebelU  and    the    Vigi- 
lantSf  around  their  camp-fire,  drinking. 

1st  Vigilant. 
Whoop!  whoop!  hurra!  Give  us  a  song!  Is 
there  not  some  one  here  can  howl  a  hymn,  or  strike 
a  trail  in  prayer,  or  sight  a  yarn — ^talk  horse  talk, 
or  moral  slugend,  or  pious  noration?  Whoop! 
whoop!     hurra! 

M    Vigilant. 
Come,  Clinebell,  sing  us  some  deserter's  rhyme, 
or  bloody  snatch  of  your  banditti ! 
Clinebell. 
You  need  not  wink  at  your  partners !     He  shall 
not  call  me  banditti.     I'll  put  the  daylight  through 
him! 

3d  Vigilant, 
Never  mind — ^he  shall  take  the  ban  oflF  your 
ditty,  and  ask  a  civil  song. 

Ji,th  Vigilant. 
Ha!  ha!  If  he  take  the  band  off,  shall  not  his 
hat  come  too.^^ 

3d  Vigilant. 
That's  what's  the  matter!    How  shall  we  have 
music,  if  he  take  the  band  away? 
177 


1st  Vigilant. 
Come  boys^ — ah,  pshah!     put  up  your  weepons, 
and  let's  have  drinks,  and  a  song.     Say  you  didn't 
mean  any  harm,  Maine,  and  Ozark,  you  ax  his 
pardon. 

Jith  Vigilant. 
If  he  axe  his  pardon,  he  may  save  himself  a 
helve  fight,  eh? 

The  Vigilants. 
Ha!  Ha!  Ha! 

2nd  Vigilant. 
Well,  my  knife  is  up,  since  there's  so  much  fun 
aboard.     Let's  Kquor. 

Clinebell. 
All  right — there's  my  paw.     Let's  drink,   and 
then  I'll  sing.  [They  drink — Clinebell  sings.] 

SONG. 

The  pickets  are  out,  and  the  wary  scout, 

And  the  camp-fire's  burning  bright; 
With  jovial  souls  and  flowing  bowls. 

We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight,  tonight. 
We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight. 
Chorus. — Whatever  the  world  may  think  of  us 
We  care  not  for  its  frown; 
While-ever  good  fellows  will  drink  to  us, 
Our  cares  and  sorrows  we'll  drown. 

We're  in  for  the  war,  and  many  a  scar 
Will  show  how  we've  urged  the  fight; 

But  with  jovial  souls,  and  flowing  bowls, 
We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight,  tonight, 
We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight. 

Chorus. — Whatever  the  world  may  think,  etc. 

We  fight  for  the  cause  of  equal  laws — 
May  God  defend  the  right! 
178 


But  with  jovial  souls,  and  flowing  bowls, 
We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight,  tonight. 
We'll  have  a  good  time  tonight. 
Chorus. — Whatever  the  world  may  think,  etc. 

The  Vigilants. 
Hunky  boy!  bully!  let's  drink  to  him. 

[  They  all  drink.  ] 
1st  Vigilant. 
Gentle-men!     I  propose  we  mount'r  horses,  and 
into  town,  and  kick  up  a  little  bit  of  hell!     Not 
much  hell,  you  know,  but  jist  enough  to  let  'em 
know  we're  on  it.     What  d'ye  say.'^ 
2d  Vigilant. 
All  right — let's  to  town. 

Clinebell. 
Excuse  me,  comrades — I  am  to  meet  Captain 
Clark,   tonight. 

2d  Vigilant. 
Ah,  yes — it  might    be  dangerous  for  you  to  go 
to  town — better  stay  away — ^ha!  ha! 
3d  Vigilant. 
He'd  rather  meet  the  clerk*  than  the  judge,  by 
a  long  distance. 

Jfth  Vigilant. 
Not  so  long — ^the  distance  is  but  nine  inches. 

3d  Vigilant. 
How  make  you  that? 

Jfth  Vigilant. 
The  measure  is  this :    is  not  life  but  a  span,  and 
shall  not  a  span  be  nine  inches? 
3d  Vigilant. 
You  are  short  of  it  by  just  thirty-seven  inches, 
English  measure,  as  I  can  prove. 
The  Vigilants. 
How  is  that? 

*The  old  English  pronunciation,  darky  prevails  in  many 
parts  of  Missouri. 

179 


3d  Vigilant. 
The  distance  of  his  preference  between  the  clerk 
and  the  judge — is  that  the  question?     Well,  it  is 
just  an  inch  added  to  an  L.     And  that  makes 
thirty-seven  inches,  plus  nine!  ha!  ha! 

J^th  Vigilant. 
Makes  not  that  three  poles,  to  wit,  two  upright, 
and  one  across  the  top? 

The  Vigilants. 
Ha!     ha!    ha! 

Sd  Vigilant. 
The  third  should  be  a  beam,  and  he  had  better 
keep  that  out  of  his  sight. 

The  Vigilants. 
Ha!     ha!     ha!     What  say  you,  Ozark? 

Clinehell. 
Gentlemen,  let  us  drink  and  be  merry!  But 
take  my  advice;  never  presume  on  any  beam  in 
the  sight,  or  mote  in  the  eye  of  Harry  Clinebell! 
Wide  awake  and  duly  sober  shall  be  my  motto, 
and  then — hands  off,  ruffians!  And  now,  until 
we  meet  again,  good-night!  [Exit.] 

1st  Vigilant. 
He  is  a  saucy  fellow,  but  brave  as  cold  steel. 

M  Vigilant. 
The  hemp  that  grew  for  him  is  now  in  skein. 

3d  Vigilant. 
But  the  cock  that  crew  for  him  ain't  in  your 
Maine. 

[Exeunt  omnes.] 

Scene  III. — In  the  forest  of  Ozark;  a  pathtvay,  in 
which  is  set  up  a  blue  flag — the  signal  of  the  Vigi- 
lants.    Enter  Clinebell. 
180 


ClinehelL 
Not  here  to  our  appointment,  though  the  time 
Is  ripe,  and  fleeting  past  the  hour  of  five ; 
He  may  not  come  at  all;  I  hope  will  not; 
The  play  of  bowie-knives  upon  breastbones. 
Was  wont  to  have  a  charm  for  me  in  peace; 
In  war,  to  skirt  close  to  the  picket's  post. 
And  almost  feel  his  breath,  where  but  to  strike 
A  pebble  falsely  were  most  instant  death; 
Or  hand  to  hand  engage  a  Hoosier  or  a  Bear, 
Or  swim  Missouri,  with  bullets  making  spray 
Around  my  head,  like  raindrops  in  a  storm — 
Such  ventures  I  have  courted  these  four  years ; 
But  to  face  Hildebrand !  to  catch  that  eye 
More  steady  than  a  lion-tamer's  gaze; 
Or  he  the  lion  roused,  and  I  the  tamer. 
With  a  white  spot  at  heart  discerned  too  late — 
I  do  not  like  the  outlook  from  this  rock 
On  which  I  stand,  too  far  to  meet  the  stream 
Except  by  crossing  it;     I  must  go  through; 
'Twas  Hildebrand  enraged,  that  led  me  in. 
And  Hildebrand  betrayed  must  lead  me  out. 
I  must  give  up  his  hiding-place,  or  be 
Myself  suspected  of  the  Vigilants,  and  some 
Fair  morning  find  a  mule  at  large. 
With  Clinebell's  empty  saddle  on  his  back. 
They  half  suspect  me  now,  and  well  they  may ! 
Venting  their  private  malice  here,  and  hatred  there. 
Pursuing  horse-thieves  on  a  stolen  jade. 
Between  them,  and  the  wretches  they  pursue, 
The  difference  is  as  broad  as  the  equator. 
Being  length  imaginary,  without  thickness. 
It  is  too  thin;  Rebel  and  Yankee  unite 
To  do  in  peace,  what  neither  dared  in  war. 
But  Clinebell  first!  there  is  a  moral  key, 
Which,  like  preferment  to  a  demagogue. 


181 


Solves  doubts  more  quick  than  conscience  can  pro- 
pound. [Enter  Captain  Clark.] 
But  here  comes  Clark. 

Well  met,  brave  Vigilant, 
Though  something  later  than  appointment. 
Clark. 

Something. 
Lay  down  the  programme  now  for  active  duty. 

Clinebell. 
You  are  a  man,  if  rumor  does  you  justice, 
Whose  soldier  bluntness  wastes  no  words;  so  first. 
The  terms;  what  share  of  the  reward  is  mine? 
[Aside]  I'll  teach  this  Lacon  brevity!  ha!  ha! 

Clark. 
Your  pardon. 

Clinebell. 
No  thanks!     I  have  that  already. 
Obtained  as  soon  as  yours;  weren't  you  a  rebel? 

Clark. 
A  rebel,  but  not  outlawed  like  yourself; 
Outlaws  are  not  within  the  general  terms. 

Clinebell. 
No  matter — I  am  with  the  Vigilants, 
And  have  my  pardon  well  assured; 
You  must  do  better  by  me ;     I  must  have 
One-half  of  the  reward — five  hundred  dolla,rs. 

Clark. 
Impossible;     I  have  my  followers. 
And  each  one  shares  with  me. 
They're  gentlemen. 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]     No  doubt — nice  moral  bears — 
Sweet  prairie  wolves! 
[Aloiid]    Then  let  me  have  one-fourth. 

Clark. 
Impossible — one  tenth;    my  men  must  feel 
Their  honor  satisfied. 

182 


Clinebell. 
[Aside]    Ye  Gods! 

I  thought  their  honor  was  impalpable. 
[Aloud]     Give  me  an  eighth. 

Clark. 
One  hundred  dollars  only. 

Clinebell. 
Shall  I  not  have  his  arms? 

Clark. 
His  arms  also. 

Clinebell. 
Then  be  it  as  you  say;  one  tenth  for  me, 
And    all    accoutrements    within    his    cave. 
No  man  on  earth  knows  how  to  find  his  cave 
But  me,  and  his  old  slave — one  Tubal — 
Who  had  as  lief  meet  Hildebrand  in  war, 
As  rattlesnakes  the  hunter's  wand  of  ash. 
From  which,  through  fire,  they  dash  in  wild 

dismay. 
He  sleeps  in  day,  and  forages  by  night. 
At  four  this  eve,  he  may  be  found  asleep, 
Outside  the  secret  entrance  to  his  cave — 
His  arms  within  its  sohd  arch  of  stone. 
I  will,  as  guide,  betray  the  secret  path. 
And  when  we  reach  the  entrance  to  the  cave, 
Your  Vigilants  precipitate  themselves 
Upon  his  form,  if  you  have  men  that  dare. 

Clark. 
Myself  and  five;     we  shall  enjoy  the  sport 
As  Irishmen  a  wake. 

Clinebell. 
[Aside]    God  grant  awake 
He  prove! 

[Aloud]    I  take  no  part,  except  as  guide ; 
He  is  my  uncle. 

Clark. 
Ah?    I  did  not  know  it. 
189 


Your  family — are  they  all  of  his  mild  manners? 

Clinebell. 
With  one  exception,  we  are  somewhat  rude. 
Like  yours,  we  rank  as  Border  RuflBans; 
But  Hildebrand  an  only  daughter  has, 
That  could  (with  deference  to  you,)  withstand 
The  censure  of  such  critics  as  yourself; 
In  nature  softly  tempered,  and  as  pure 
As  woman-worshippers  delight  to  paint 
Cecilia,  or  the  saintliest  saints  that  graced 
The  calendar  of  young  and  better  days. 
For  Hildebrand  and  me — we  are  undone, 
And  rate  as  nothing  all  our  family  ties ; 
But  Elise  (daughter  of  this  Hildebrand, — ) 
Is  something  higher  than  the  family  tree. 
And  leads  me  to  regret  you  have  not  known  her. 
[Aside]      Cold  steel  beneath  his   ribs,  if  I   mis- 
take not! 

Clark. 
No  matter,  do  not  speak  of  her;  one  moment — 
Let  see;  your  cousin  she;  your  cousin,  aye? 
I  think  you  said  she  was  a  maiden  still; 
You  called  her  Hildebrand — unmarried? 
It  makes  no  difference  to  me,  you  know, 
But  still  I  think  you  said  unmarried? 

Clinebell. 
Did  I  say  so? 

Clark. 
Say  it?     Of  course  you  did! 
What  now?     Will  you  go  back  on  what  you  said? 
Sjjeak  out — is  Elise  married,  or  a  maid? 

Clinebell. 
She  is  aUve,  and  well;  but  whether  she 
Is  married,  or  in  virginity 
Unbroken  as  a  vase  of  alabaster, 
I  do  not  certify. 

184 


Clark, 
But  do  you  know? 
It  matters  not  to  me,  save  that  once 
I  knew  her  well — 

Clinebell. 
Not  only  knew,  but  well? 
Why  what  an  honor  to  our  family ! 
I  hope  you  found  her  not  unworthy? 

Clark. 
Knew  and  admired  her,  and  cherish  still 
The  hope  that  the  misfortunes  of  the  father 
Have  spared  the  child,  who  seemed  of  different 

stock. 
And  finer  filament  of  texture,  as 
A  seed  the  wind  has  carried  from  a  garden. 
And  hidden  in  the  cleft  of  some  old  rock. 
May  germinate,  and  blossom  like  the  wildlings. 
But  yet  make  strange  the  circumambient  air 
With  most  unwonted  and  unnatural  sweetness. 
Putting  to  shame  the  scentless  sisterhood; 
So  Elise  seemed  too  high  for  her  surroundings. 
When  did  you  see  her? 

Clinebell, 
Only  three  days  since. 

Clark. 
And  was  she  married,  or  still  a  maiden? 

Clinebell. 
That  question  is  so  very  personal; 
Thus  far  conjecture  went — she  looked  a  maid. 
Fresh  as  the  dewdrop  on  the  rose,  or  hay-cocks ! 

Clark. 
There  was  one  Hilton,  she  disliked. 

Clinebell. 
Vm  glad  of  that !     I'm  glad  of  that ! 

Clark. 
Why  glad?     have  you  an  interest  also? 
It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  maids  who  vex 
185 


The  world  with  one  persistent  rivalry — 
Whom  but  to  see  is  to  adore  with  worship 
More  natural  than  that  we  owe  to  saints. 
Do  you  enter  the  lists  for  Elise  too? 
Else  why  rejoice  that  Hilton  is  despised? 

Clinehell. 
Why  do  you  trot  me  through  the  categories? 
Have  you  an  interest  also  in  Elise? 
Now  frankly,  I  feel  none;  and  that  is  honesty 
But  having  heard  the  story  otherwise — 
That  Hilton  was  preferred  among  her  lovers, 
And  fearing  lest  he  might  have  married  her — 

Clark. 
I  thought  you  said  she  was  unwed ! 

Clinebell. 

Did  I  say  so? 
I  thought  I  said  with  truth,  I  did  not  know. 

Clark. 
Here  come  my  Vigilants;  the  hour  grows  late: 
We'll  more  of  this  on  opportunity; 
At  present  we  must  forward;  hillo  there! 

[Enter  the  Vigilants^  who  pass  across  the  scenes- 
exeunt  Clark  and  Clinebell  after  them.] 

Scene  IV.     In  front  of  the  secret  entrance  to  Hilde- 
brand's    cave.     Present:      Hildebrand     bound; 
Clinebelly  Clark  and  other  Vigilants. 
Hildebrand. 

Well  done,  brave  Vigilants — well  done ! 

To  seize  an  old  man  sleeping  without  arms ! 

No  man  can  cope  with  low,  mean  treachery; 

Hide  not  behind  your  worthy  comrades,  boy! 

Mine  eye  shall  reach  your  soul,  my  tongue  your 
ear; 

(For  conscience — ^that  God  failed  to  render  you, 

As  some  are  born  sightless,  or  without  speech.) 

I  have  no  child;  but  if  I  had  a  son, 
186 


And  he  did  not  pursue  your  faithless  track 
From  this  time  forth,  until  his  bowie-knife 
Cleft  your  base  heart  in  twain  from  lobe  to  lobe, 
I  would,  were  he  the  last  that  bore  my  name, 
Most  gaily  bear  me  at  his  funeral. 
Take  your  reward  with  these  base  RuflSans, 
Who  think  by  crying  *stop  thief  to  evade 
The  proper  sanction  of  their  well-known  crimes. 

Clark. 
Come,  come,  old  man!     You  are  a  prisoner. 
And  I  advise  you  to  be  reticent 
Or  season  speech  with  less  of  your  abuse. 

Hildebrand. 
What,  Clark,  you  here  and  in  command,  who  ran 
Before  my  single  arm,  with  ten  recruits? 
Where  are  the  horses  you  have  stole  these  two 

years 
Under  pretence  of  military  orders — 
Where  are  the  rings  your  followers  have  torn 
From  fair  and  loyal  fingers,  undefended 
From  highway  robbery?  Where  are  the  watches — 

Clark. 
You  lie,  old  Outlaw;  and  your  scorpion  tongue 
May  hurry  you  to  hell! 

Ist  Vigilant y  [a  Confederate.] 

Not  the  reward — dead  or  alive? 
Let  me  dispatch  the  fierce  old  murderer! 
To  my  own  knowledge,  he  had  thirteen  men — 
Confederates  sent  to  arrest — shot  down 
In  coldest  blood! 

2d  Vigilant,  [a  Federal.] 
Upon  a  time,  he  saw 
A  company  of  colored  soldiers  coming. 
And  straightway  raised  aloft  the  stars  and  stripes, 
And  lured  them  on  to  lay  aside  their  arms, 
Till  at  a  sign  from  him,  his  outlawed  band 
Most  treacherously  set  upon  the  blacks, 
187 


And  murdered  all  but  one  or  two  of  them, 
Whom  flight,  not  Hildebrand,  reprieved. 

3d  Vigilant. 
We  might  rake  hell  and  sift  the  coals,  ere  we 
Should  find  a  worser  hellgamite  than  he ! 

Hildebrand. 
See,  Clark,  how  brave  your  Vigilantes  are ! 
Give  me  one  arm,  and  my  revolver  free. 
And  if  I  do  not  make  the  dogs  retreat, 
I  am  not  Hildebrand! 

Clark. 
Not  much!     Release  you? 
Do  you  think  me  an  idiot  or  insane? 

Hildebrand. 
Neither;  'tis  true,  I  heard  my  daughter  say. 
You  were  a  soft-pate  scoundrel. 
Clark. 
O,  you  He! 
You  Ue !  you  lie !  and  shall  be  shot  for  that ! 
Hillo  there!  form  your  Hne!  we'll  stop  his  mouth! 
[The  Vigilants  form  a  line,  and  level  their  pieces. 
Enter  Hilton^  followed  by  Federal  soldiers.] 

Hilton. 
Ground  arms!  who  fires  a  shot,  dies  on  the  spot! 
Forward  men!     I  am  commander  here! 

Clark. 
Who  dares  countermand  me?     by  God, 
We'll  see! 

Hilton. 
Rebel,  scarcely  pardoned,  beware! 
If  but  one  hair  of  that  old  man  be  touched, 
I  swear  my  men  shall  leave  no  one  of  you. 
Loyal  or  otherwise,  to  tell  the  tale. 
I  am  in  earnest;  look  ye  well  to  it. 
To  bring  to  order  this  tumultuous  section. 
By  martial  law,  is  my  commission  here. 
And  this  marauding  in  the  name  of  order — 

188 


This  truly  loyal  carnival  of  crime — 
Must  cease. 

Clark. 
Is  Hildebrand  not  outlawed, 
With  a  reward  for  him — dead  or  alive? 
We  claim  we  have  a  right  to  execute  him ! 

Hilton. 
And  so  you  have  a  right  to  die  yourselves ! 
I  say  ground  arms!  who  dares  to  disobey! 
[I'he    Vigilants    obey    Hilton.] 
Hildebrand. 
Spirit  of  some  dark  mystery  unsolved, 
If  anything  on  earth  could  shake  my  nerves, 
It  were  to  see  the  dead  return  to  life. 
By  what  strange  chance  you  are  redeemed  from 

death, 
I  cannot  tell. 

Hilton. 
Your  nephew  here — not  here? 
I  thought  I  saw  him  with  the  Vigilants? 
No  matter;  were  he  here,  he  could  resolve  you 
How  cheaply  I  redeemed  my  life  from  him ; 
By  promise  to  commend  himself  to  pardon. 
And  how  with  harmless  volleys  in  the  air. 
He  cheated  you  to  think  your  bloody  order 
Had  been  forthwith  enacted  in  my  blood; 
How  in  Elise*s  ear,  of  my  escape 
He  whispered  tenderly  to  comfort  her. 
And  when  you  bade  your  ragged  troop  disband, 
How  Harry  brought  my  angel  to  my  side. 
And  I  redeemed  my  pledge,  and  in  return 
Secured  his  pardon. 

Hildebrand. 
Call  him  not  my  nephew! 
My  family  were  Virginians,  thank  God! 
He  is  the  scion  of  this  upstart  West, 
With  no  relation  but  himself,  no  God, 
189 


No  altar,  and  no  faith  in  aught,  but  thrift. 

Hilton. 
No  more  of  him,  the  world  is  full  of  such; 
We  cannot  make  men  fit  ideal  moulds, 
But  must  take  them  as  God  hath  modeled  them; 
Nay  even  more,  we  must  so  take  ourselves; 
His  hand  that  holds  us  up  hath  fashioned  us 
Not  all  of  good,  nor  altogether  ill, — 
But  in  such  strange  proportion  as  seemed  fit, 
Incomprehensibly  to  us,  but  just. 
To  mix  the  elements  composing  man — 
The  best  inclined  from  perfect  rectitude. 
The  worst  with  some  material  still  of  good. 

Hildebrand. 
I  do  not  like  you,  Hilton,  though  you  spare  me; 
But  I  do  love  my  violet,  Elise, 
With  that  full  scope  of  old  paternal  love, 
Which  once  the  lofty-minded  God  of  Light, 
In  fable,  lavished  on  his  Hyacinthe, 
Upon  whose  leaves  are  woven  notes  of  grief. 
Where  is  she,  Hilton?     Disregard  these  minions; 
Forget  the  cruel  cords  which  bound  these  arms — 
Make  nothing  of  my  fate — a  poor  old  man — 
This  only,  for  the  love  of  mercy,  tell — 
Elise,  my  darling  child:    is  she  still  well? 

[Enter  Elise.] 

Hilton. 
Receive  her  answer!     She  is  here! 

Elise^  [embracing  him.] 

O,  Father! 
Be  all  our  life  His  praise,  for  God  is  good ! 
And  be  His  name  upon  our  tongues  forever. 
For  he  has  brought  us  timely  to  your  rescue. 
And  here  wrenched  by  the  leverage  of  prayer. 
From  hesitating  wills,  behold  your  pardon ! 

[Gives  him  a  paper.] 
Who  dare  reproach?     take  but  this  oath  attached, 
190 


And  you  stand  all  as  blameless  and  as  free, 

And  unimpeached,  as  any  in  the  land, 

How  far  we  traveled  to  procure  this  writ — 

How  at  the  feet  of  him,  the  President, 

Who  roughly  represents  nobility, 

I  knelt,  it  matters  not  at  once  to  tell; 

If  prayers,  hke  declining  satellites. 

Melt  into  rosy  morning  at  the  last. 

The  clouds  they  struggled  through,  are  best  forgot : 

This  much  is  certain :     Father  you  are  free ! 

Take  but  this  oath,  and  all  your  chains  discharged. 

You  walk  your  mountain-paths  again,  enlarged! 

Hildebrand. 
Take  but  this  Oath  !     God  be  my  judge,  and  more. 
And  send  me  fast  beyond  redeeming  grace. 
If  ever  I  consent  to  break  my  soul 
Upon  the  wheel  of  expurgating  oaths! 

Elise. 
'Tis  but  the  universal  amnesty,  which    all   have 
taken, — even  Robert  Lee! 
Hildebrand. 
Though  all  were  more  than  all  can  claim  to  be — 
Though  at  the  stake  I  stood,  and  clouted  chiefs 
Piled  fagots  to  my  chin,  and  but  this  oath 
Between  me,  and  sweet  liberty  and  Ufe, 
I  still  would  scorn  to  let  it  pass  my  Hps. 
By  oaths  the  devils  knit  their  leagues  in  hell; 
By  oaths  conspirators  are  rashly  bound; 
By  oaths  the  demagogue  deludes  the  mass 
And  thus  most  mischievously  robs  the  State. 
By  oaths  the  consciences  of  men  are  seared. 
And  nations  lowered  in  the  scale  of  truth; 
By  oaths  have  old  Republics  paved  the  way 
Through  anarchy  to  vile  obedience. 
And  spiritless  subservience  to  wrong; 
Let  others  swear,  who  have  betrayed  some  trust! 
Let  vanquished  and  victors  in  carnival 
191 


By  oaths,  crown  perjury  their  liege  and  king; 
For  one,  I  will  refuse  the  sacrilege! 

Elise. 
O,  Father!  Elise,  kneeling  at  your  feet, 
Asks  that  your  pardon  make  her  joy  complete! 

Hildebrand. 
My  daughter,  anything  but  this!     you  have 
Your  husband,  and  my  blessings  on  you  both ; 
Whatever  else  he  be,  I  know  him  brave. 
And  courage  is  the  guarantor  of  faith. 
Let  not  my  older  knowledge  and  forecast 
Dim  the  sweet  lustre  of  your  married  bliss — 
Upon  the  walls  of  time  I  see  the  future 
Hung  like  a  cartoon  which  the  painter.  Death 
Calls  on  his  pupil  History  to  fill : 
Assassination,  child  of  stern  old  wrong. 
Begot  unlawfully  upon  Despair, 
Like  Gracchus  brave,  hke  Brutus  stem  and  just; 
And  Peculation,  Bribery  and  Fraud, 
Gaunt  Penury,  Rape,  Murder,  and  Revenge, 
Domestic  Feud,  and  Races  ill-conjoined. 
Outrage,  and  Pestilence,  and  Fire,  Disease, 
Hypocrisy,  and  License,  Lust,  and  Rage, 
Shall  like  subalterns  of  the  Macedon, 
In  turn,  divide  and  rule  the  provinces. 
Until  old  Tyranny  aroused,  swoop  down. 
And  stretch  his  raven  wings  from  sea  to  sea! 
For  me,  I  give  all  pardon  to  the  winds. 

[Tears  up  the  pardon.] 
'Tis  for  the  injured  to  forgive  the  wronger 
I  can  not  pardon  you,  my  countrymen ! 
God  says  forgive  our  enemies,  but  there 
Is  no  injunction  to  forgive  our  friends ! 
My  heart  is  like  the  hollow  of  a  taper. 
Intensely  dark,  where  all  is  light  around, 
Yet  all  the  hotter  for  its  vacancy; 
Let  Vigilants  beware,  and  Federals  stand  off; 

192 


Here  is  my  temple — ^here  I  take  my  stand, 
And  God,  not  man,  may  pardon  Hildebrand ! 

[Exit,   re-entering  his  cave.] 
Hilton. 
'Tis  over;  he  must  go  his  way — we  om-s. 
Sergeant !  [to  the  Federals] 

Take  back  your  company  to  camp. 
And  Clark,  see  that  your  Vigilants  disband; 
Their  duties,  self -assumed,  devolve  on  me; 
Leave  Hildebrand  alone!     Come,  EUse,  let  us  go, 
His  Hfe  is  safe  if  we  can  make  it  so. 

[Exeunt    Hilton    and    EUse.] 
Clark. 
Comrades  farewell!     love — rank — both,  I  resign; 
Today  is  his — tomorrow  may  be  mine ! 

[Exeunt  Vigilants  and  Federals  in  different  di- 
rections.] 


Note. — If  any  one  should  feel  interest  in  the 
history  of  Hildebrand  beyond  the  point  where  this 
historical  drama  leaves  him,  he  can  consult  the 
files  of  the  St.  Louis  journals  of  the  late  Autumn 
of  1865.  Various  expeditions  were  organized  for 
his  capture,  the  last  and  largest  numbering  not 
less  than  300  men.  He  baffled  them  all,  with  al- 
most incredible  hardihood,  and  daring,  and  finally 
escaped  to  Texas,  where  he  is  now  supposed  to  be 
living  under  an  assumed  name.  The  author  need 
hardly  add  that  he  no  more  holds  himself  bound 
to  defend  his  eccentric  political  invective,  than  he 
does  to  answer  the  various  indictments  now  pend- 
ing against  him  in  the  courts  of  Missouri.  [Author's 
note  1880(?)] 


198 


KATE  Mcdonald 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS 


Carter  Bland A  Southern  Patriot 

Finley Bland  in  disguise 

Pennington,  An  escaped  Confederate  prisoner,  en- 
tered at  Toronto  University. 

Latrobe A  detective  of  the  United  States 

Sandford A  Newspaper  correspondent 

Latimer  \  Friends    of  Bland,    conspired    against 

Price       /  Latrobe. 

Commandant  of  the  Department  of  the  East 

Captain  Van  Dyke his  Adjutant 

Pompey his  colored  Orderly  (a  Freedman) 

Dennis    Mahon An    Attorney 

Doctor  Froisart An  elderly  French  adopted 

Citizen. 
General  Crawford. .  President  of  Military  Commis- 
sion. 
Members  of  the  Commission,  Guardsmen,  etc. 

Kate   McDonald In   love   with   Bland 

Judith    Vane An  old  domestic 


KATE  McDonald 


ACT  I 


Scene  I. — Parlor  in  the  Queen* s  Hotels    Toronto ^ 
Canada. 

Finley — [alone.  ] 
Poor  Kate!     I  fear  her  curious  woman's  eye! 
But  ne'ertheless,  though  all  the  eyes  of  Argus 
Keep  sentinel,  and  look  through  her  bright  two, 
I  cannot,  dare  not,  let  myself  forget 
She  is  the  daughter  of  my  country's  friend. 
If  but  the  cargo  of  results  I  steer 
Through  rapids,  for  that  country's  good,  were  safe. 
It  mattered  little  what  betid  the  pilot! 

[Enter  Kate  McDonald.] 
Miss  Kate  McDonald?     Pardon  me!    Report 
Does  credit  to  your  character  in  this: 
She  says  you  have  come  upon  a  filial  mission — 
O!  pardon  me,  that  I  have  bathed  such  sweet 
Sunlight  of  soul  as  saddens  in  your  face 
With  tears !  it  is  because  I  too  have  known 
Deep  grief — it  may  be  wrongs  still  unredressed — 
That  leads  me  to  make  offer  of  an  arm, 
Not  potent  here,  but  wiUinger  than  strong. 
To  serve  you  if  I  can.     May  I  not  ask 
Your  confidence  ?    How  stands  it  with  your  father  ? 
199 


Kate  McDonald. 
Not  well;  why  should  a  stranger  ask? 

Finhy. 
Because  the  press,  which  like  the  conscience  of  the 

world, 
Repeats  at  night  the  record  of  the  day, 
This  morning  waked  our  pity  that  your  father 
Arraigned  before  a  Military  Court, 
(Before  which  freemen  were  not  wont  to  stand 
Except  in  countries  where  no  law  prevails,) 
Had  been  condemned  to  fatal  punishment 
For  having  aided  in  conspiracy 
Those  rash  Confederates,  if  such  there  were, 
Who  joined  in  mad  attempt  to  fire  New  York. 
And  you,  'twas  farther  stated,  had  come  here 
To  gather  proofs  against  the  serious  charge. 
That  a  new  trial  might  reverse  his  doom. 
I  see,  fair  lady,  I  have  moved  you  much — 
Forgive  me,  for  'tis  not  impertinence 
Has  led  me  to  repeat  this  current  gossip — 
My  object  and  apology  are  better; 
I  fain  would  serve  your  errand  if  I  might — 
Will  you  accept  my  proffered  intercession? 

Kate. 
[Aside]      (That  voice!  that  familiar  tone!) 
With  my  full  heart,  and  its  best  tide  of  thanks ! 
God  knows  I  stand  in  need  of  friendly  oflBce; 
A  woman,  and  alone,  in  a  strange  land. 
Scarce  knowing  whom  or  what  she  seeks,  save  that 
A  life  hangs  on  the  issue  of  her  mission ! 

Finley. 
Then  it  is  true — ^the  statement  I  have  read? 

Kate. 
Alas !  too  true;  would  it  were  otherwise  I 
Yet  false;  my  father,  sir,  is  innocent! 

Finley. 
But  tell  me,  how  came  he  in  this  suspicion? 

200 


Kate. 
[Aside]    (Surely  this  is  he — my  inapproachable !) 
There  were  Confederates  who  staid  with  us; 
But  what  designs  they  had  upon  the  city, 
Alas,  my  father  nothing  knew,  nor  feared. 
One  morn  they  left  us;     did  not  say  farewell; 
We  never  saw  them  more,  altho'  we  thought 
They  would  return  that  night,  as  was  their  wont 
To  lodge  with  us.     We  knew  them  to  be  Southern, 
But  we  cared  not;     my  father  hated  this 
Unnatural  strife;  the  rack  could  not  extort 
One  word  that  would  betray  a  refugee, 
Northern  or  Southern — loving  all  ahke. 
And  hating  only  fratricidal  war. 
That  night  the  fire  broke  out  at  many  points 
In  strange  localities  that  showed,  'twas  said, 
Its  birth  incendiary,  and  most  wicked; 
The  beds  in  the  Saint  Nicholas  in  flames; 
Slow  matches  under  banks  and  museums; 
Alarm  clocks,  with  the  alarum  bells  detached, 
Ingeniously  wound  to  strike  a  match 
In  the  dead  stillness  of  the  sleeping  night. 

Finley. 
But  what  connection  had  your  father? 
Kate. 
None! 
Most  absolutely  none !  nor  did  we  dream  him 
Suspected  of  the  rash  design  alleged, 
Till  suddenly,  and  unannounced,  one  day. 
An  officer — a  stern,  curt  fellow  too — 
Called  at  our  house,  and  made  demand  for  him. 
We  knew,  hence  feared,  no  wrong;  in  converse 

warm 
They  left  the  house,  and  from  that  day  to  this 
Our  eyes  have  never  rested  on  his  face; 
A  soldier  came  and  brought  a  note  from  him; 
He  was  in  prison,  charged  with  harboring 
201 


Confederates  conspired  to  bum  New  York! 

Finley. 
Alas !  these  days  are  fraught  with  deeds  hke  this ! 
What  have  you  done — ^your  friends — to    rescue 
him? 

Kale. 
We  are  but  two,  my  sister  and  myself, 
Who,  with  our  father,  though  his  health  is  frail. 
Battle  the  world,  and  keep  all  want  at  bay. 

Finley. 
Then  let  me  be  your  brother!     What  is  there 
A  brother's  arm  might  supplement? 

Kate. 

Nothing! 
All  that  we  can  do  in  New  York  is  done; 
They  would  not  let  us  see  him,  but  repelled 
Us  from  his  prison-door.     The  Tombs  bear  witness 
We  have  besieged  the  Commandant  in  vain, 
A  popinjay,  his  adjutant,  still  says — 
"The  General  cannot  be  seen  today!" 
And  then  he  ogles  us,  and  stares,  and  whispers. 
The  nice  young  men,  with  such  brave  uniforms ! 
God  help  the  IJnion,  if  its  stay  were  these ! 

Finley. 
The  Union !     God  in  heaven  save  the  mark ! 
As  soon  shall  sparrows  peck  down  pyramids, 
Or  moles  intrench  a  town  with  moat  and  mound. 
As  these  bright-buttoned  puppets  called  a  'staff' 
Support  the  strength,  or  weaken  the  defence 
Of  any  single  thing  or  place  on  earth ! 
I  know  such  well — have  brushed  them  from  my 

path 
By  squads,  and  asked  for  their  superiors ! 
But  let  me  not  usurp  your  current  story. 

Kate. 
Worn  out  by  oft-discouraged  intercessions — 
Denied  all  entrance  at  his  prison-door, 

202 


One  day  a  letter  came  from  his  own  hand. 
Informing  us  his  fate  had  been  postponed. 
With  leave  to  send  to  Canada  for  proofs 
To  prove  him  innocent;  and  so  while  she 
Remains  at  home  to  serve  him  as  she  may, 
I  come,  as  you  have  read,  to  find  our  friends; 
For  well  they  know,  whatever  themselves  designed. 
Our  father  is  most  innocent. 

Finley. 

Who  are 
Your  Southern  friends?     You  have  their  names 
at  least? 

Kate. 
Their  names,  but  naught  beyond;  here  is  the  Kst. 
We  had  a  friend  preceded  them  with  us. 
And  boarded  in  our  family  many  months. 
Whom  they  all  knew  but  to  respect  and  love 
As  soldiers  love  a  leader;  and  with  cause. 
We  loved  him  too — that  is — as  friends  should  love; 
Could  I  but  find  him  here,  (and  I  am  not 
Without  the  hope  of  such  felicity — ), 
My  drift  of  troubles  would  grow  less  or  melt 
Beneath  the  sun  of  his  warm  sympathy ! 

Finley. 
His  name? 

Kate. 
Was  Carter  Bland! 

Finley. 
And  see  you  aught 
In  him  who  now  addresses  you  like  Bland? 

Kate. 
He  wore  a  ring  Hke  that!  [points  to  his  finger.] 

Finley. 
Kate! 

Kate. 
Captain  Bland! 

[  They  embrace.     Exeunt.] 

203 


Scene  II — A  private  room  in  same  Hotel  Present: 
Finley,  Pennington, 

Finley. 
I  tell  you,  Friend,  all  things  are  possible 
To  men  of  nerve,  who  strike  where  least  expected. 
With  cool  precision,  mixed  with  headlong  dash ! 
A  tiger  on  the  plains  has  put  to  rout 
Whole  caravans — remorseless,  sudden,  sure — 
But  Gods !  at  every  step  this  Thompson  thwarts  us ! 
He  holds  the  tourniquet  upon  our  veins, 
And  will  not  yield  to  us  the  blood  of  action ! 
I  know  he  has  in  bank  Confederate  gold, 
Unstint,  unused,  unhandled,  save  to  count. 
How  was  it  when  Beall  thundered  at  the  gates 
Of  yonder  Island,  where  our  prisoners  lay? 
I  have  been  told  he  gave  him  for  that  venture 
Thirty  eagles — enough  to  make  a  prey 
Of  those  whom  thrice  the  same,  perchance,  had 

saved! 
And  Cole  assured  me  this  it  was  that  brought 
The  whole  adventure  to  disastrous  end ! 

Pennington. 
And  how  did  Cole  make  that  result  appear? 
I  thought  the  problem  failed  for  want  of  terms; 
Thus — given  six  cavaliers  with  bowie-knives 
To  sink  two  gun-boats,  iron-clad,  equipped. 
And  by  surrounding  force  to  come  to  terms 
A  garrison  of  twice  two  hundred  men. 
Well  armed  and  victualled  for  thirty  days ! 

Finley. 
You  may  be  right — ^you  may  be  wrong;  I  know 
That  Cole  ascribed  it  al  to  Thompson's  folly; 
This  was  the  account  he  gave,  on  his  escape 
From  prison,  and  return  to  Canada : 
The  "Philo  Parsons"  plied  from  off  Detroit, 
Touching  Canadian  Sandwich  on  her  course. 
Abreast  blue  Erie  down  to  Sandusky. 
204 


At  Sandwich   Beall  should  board  her  in  disguise, 
With  such  Confederates  as  he  could  enlist; 
Should  rise  and  seize  her  nearing  Johnson's  Isle, 
On  which  our  suffering  prisoners  lay  immured. 
On  that  same  night,  appointed  long  before. 
It  was  arranged  that  Cole  should  entertain 
With  great  magnificence  of  wine  and  feast. 
The  officers  who  watched  the  Isle,  and  those 
Who  manned  the  Michigan,  whose  iron  bulk 
Lay  like  a  watchdog  at  the  Island's  door. 
Cole  had  a  dozen  spirits,  brave  and  true, 
At  Sandusky,  sworn  on  the  Evangelists 
To  rescue  the  Confederate  prisoners. 
Or  dare,  and  perish  in  the  vain  attempt; 
And  certain  leaders,  prisoned  on  the  Isle, 
Apprised,  should  rise  upon  that  night  and  aid; 
Cole's  confreres  in  the  town  would  signal  Beall, 
When  all  was  ready  for  combined  assault . 
The  scheme  worked  well;     Cole's  plans  to  con- 
summation 
Ran  smoothly  on  without  impediment; 
Beall  did  his  part,  and  all  seemed  ripe  for  action; 
Cole  sent  to  our  Commissioner  for  funds, 
As  only  these  were  wanting  to  the  plot; 
Thompson  refused  his  quest!  by  Heaven,  refused! 
With  thousands  trusted  to  him  to  dispense 
Not  as  he  would,  but  for  our  common  cause, 
He  stood  upon  a  penny's  discount,  when 
We  drew  upon  him  for  the  lives  of  men ! 

Pennington. 
Vive  Thompson !  of  marplots  in  this  strange  world, 
Where  all  is  chance,  commend  me  to  your  miser! 
I've  noted  this  at  cards  and  funerals — 

Finley. 
Cole  says  the  eve  rose  beautifully  bright; 
The  Northern  twilight  bound  the  day  to  night 
With  bridge  of  gold,  reflecting  either  shore; 
205 


Later,  the  evening-star  arose,  and  soon 

A  shower  of  arrows,  silver-tipped,  fell  down 

From  out  the  hornM  quiver  of  the  moon; 

The  Aurora  flung  great  streams  of  milky  hght 

Athwart  the  glory  of  the  Northern  sky; 

Proud  Sirius  blazed,  Orion  answered  him; 

While  sinking  in  the  South,  the  Warrior  waved 

His  sword  of  fire,  and  girt  his  golden  belt ! 

Then  Beall,  the  lion-hearted,  neared  the  Isle, 

And  waited  for  the  signals  to  ascend — 

But  none  disturbed  the  temper  of  the  night — 

The  cause.  Cole  solemnly  avers,  was  this: 

Denied  all  funds,  he  sought  perforce  for  credit. 

And  when  the  night  appointed  had  arrived. 

And  his  well-furnished  feast  was  spread  with  wines, 

His  guests,  the  Federal  oflBcers,  on  hand, 

A  bailiff  on  the  shoulder  tapped  mine  host. 

And  led  him  off,  a  prisoner  for  debt; 

The  cause  of  his  arrest  unknown,  he  thought 

Himself  betrayed,  and  thus  betrayed  himself; 

His  guests  returned  to  duty  on  the  ship; 

No  signal  rockets  were  sent  up  the  sky. 

And  in  the  gloom,  Beall's  men  read  blank  despair; 

Himself,  'twas  said,  would  still  have  forward  gone; 

His  men  refused — and  all  was  at  an  end ! 

And  all  this  failure  of  a  grand  design 

Lies  at  a  miser's  door — a  paltry  broker — 

Who  played  the  dotard,  when  his  role  was  young ! 

Pennington. 
Cole  should  have  read  Poor  Richard's  Almanack — 
*Postpone  your  ball  or  rout  until 

You've  settled  your  green-grocer's  bill.' 
Finley. 
[Aside]  I  cannot  move  this  boy. 
Yes — ^yes!     'tis  over  now — lament  is  vain, 
And  Beall,  'tis  said,  gone  whence  his  fathers  came. 
To  England — England,  mistress  of  the  sea, 
206 


The  old  memorial  home  of  Liberty! 

Pennington. 
A  case  of  better  Old  than  New  for  Beall — 
I  fancy  Boston  were  unsafe  for  him — 
But  tell  me,  Finley,  did  you  know  this  Beall? 

Finley. 
No — that  is,  not  so  well  as  I  have  wished — 
Though  better  than  his  country's  enemies. 

Pennington. 
I  knew  him  when  a  boy;  he  saved  my  life; 
As  luck  would  have  it,  I  have  not  repaid 
That  debt,  although  I  swore  an  oath  to  do  it. 
His  raid  reached  me,  thanks  to  the  Northern  press, 
And  stimulated  my  escape  from  prison. 
That  I  might  save,  or  perish  with  my  friend. 

Finley. 
Suppose  him  gone,  as  rumor  says  he  is, 
And  there  were  schemes  worthy  of  his  behest. 
Some  other  had  espoused,  or  sworn  to  carry — 
What  then?     Would  you  not  give  a  helping  hand? 

Pennington. 
I  would — or  give  or  take,  I  care  not  which — 
Howe'er  you  deal  the  cards,  pass  me  not  by ! 
In  fun,  you'll  find  my  hand  contains  the  high. 
In  love,  not  low,  but  ever  Jack  am  I, 
In  fight,  I  play  for  game,  and  win  or  die! 

Finley. 
Good !     I  in  fight  have  sorted  you  a  hand ; 
Hear,  and  decide  to  play  and  win — or  die! 
To  achieve  needs  only  courage  or  despair; 
Brave  Cortez,  with  retreat  at  hand,  was  weak; 
Escape  consumed  to  ashes  with  his  ships. 
His  Spaniards,  but  a  handful,  saw  him  rise 
Above  the  Montezuma's  throne  of  gold; 
And  had  the  wild  Arabian  Prophet  paused 
To  take  the  census  of  his  proselytes. 
And  finding  them  but  thirteen  in  three  years, 
207 


Had  lost  self-confidence,  or  trust  in  God, 

He  ne'er  had  formed  an  epoch  for  the  world, 

Nor  crystalized  a  faith  for  half  of  it. 

God  alone  is;  and  He  has  power  to  draw, 

From  out  the  seed  of  venture,  certain  fruit ! 

The  highest  possibility  our  aim. 

Our  purpose  married  to  a  steadfast  faith. 

The  right  our  watchword,  and  we  must  succeed ! 

My  scheme  is  this :  these  inland  seas,  the  Lakes, 

Encircle  many  islands  lined  with  wood; 

I  am  a  wood-contractor,  say,  with  hands 

Of  my  selection,  hired  to  cut  for  me; 

I  fill  my  Island  with  Confederates — 

Good  Southern  wood-choppers,  with  axe  by  day. 

And  rifles  well  secreted  for  the  night; 

I  can  enlist  a  hundred  in  a  month. 

Escaped  from  Northern  prisons  on  the  border, 

Without  resource  for  reaching  Southern  homes. 

I  have  them  on  my  Isle;  a  ship  goes  by : 

We  rise  as  Beall  (a  hundred  trusty  souls 

Where  he  had  ten,)  five  leagues  below  Detroit, 

And  boldly  push  upon  her  in  an  hour! 

Ashes  for  ashes!     Do  you  comprehend? 

Pennington. 
I  do — as  clearly  as  the  blind  man  saw — 
Ashes  to  ashes !  dust  to  dust !  amen ! 
Is  it  a  funeral? 

Finley. 
Aye !  and  a  pyre ! 
Ashes  for  ashes!  mark  you,  this  is  War! 

Pennington. 
A  marksman  marked  me  that  at  Pittsburgh  Land- 
ing, 
Since  when  a  limp  has  been  my  monitor, 
So  that  I  cannot  jump  to  your  conclusions; 
Explain! 


208 


Finley. 
I  will,  if  now  you'll  leave  your  jests, 
But  for  a  moment  of  more  serious  thought. 
And  let  that  ardor  which  your  wound  attests. 
Take  fire,  if  what  I  say  be  worth  your  heat. 
By  shot,  and  shell,  and  steel,  and  sword,  and  fire, 
Our  enemies  have  taught  us  this  is  War ! 
The  flames  of  Jackson  and  Columbia  light 
Our  fancies  on  to  retribution  just; 
The  bulk  of  all  their  forces  from  abroad. 
The  very  dregs  and  cankers  of  the  world. 
At  ease,  and  undisturbed  at  home,  our  foes 
Retain  their  wonted  luxury  of  life; 
They  eat,  and  drink,  and  laugh  at  their  own  jests. 
And  read  of  battles  as  Arabian  tales. 
Or  old  achievements  of  chivalric  times ; 
Now,  I  would  bring  the  struggle  home  to  them ! 
The  dogs  of  strife  should  bite  as  well  as  bark; 
They  should,  through  suffering,  feel  what  they  in- 
flict; 
Our  churches  turned  from  godly  use  to  stalls; 
Our  sisters  outraged,  brothers  slain  in  battle; 
Our  forests  leveled,  boundary-stones  removed; 
Our  homesteads  razed,  tombs  sacrificed ; 
Our  graves  ransacked  for  gems,  or  ghastly  gain; 
Our  cities,  nests  of  commerce  once,  and  marts 
Of  trade,  now  smouldering  in  solitude; 
Sweet  villas  perforate  with  wanton  shot; 
Books,  pictures,  gems  of  art,  despoiled  or  used 
For  basest  substitution  in  the  camp; 
Gaunt,  barren  Ravage  monarch    crowned,  with 

sway 
O'er  broad  Savannas — plains  once  rife  with  food; 
All  order  thrust  aside;  all  credit  drowned ' 
Could  they  feel  these,  there  were  an  end  of  War ! 
There  is  no  purer  element  than  Fire ! 
Let  us,  some  dark  night,  sweep  down  on  Detroit, 
209 


Where  Lust  and  Murder  hold  high  carnival, 
And  plimge  her  in  the  purer  bath  of  flame! 
Our  prisoners  released  from  living  graves 
To  swell  the  current  of  our  sudden  raid; 
The  North  alarmed,  and  Canada  inflamed 
By  threats  of  being  overrun,  in  turn; 
Britain  aroused  by  trespass  on  her  soil — 
All  these  results  may  flow  from  one  brave  stroke! 
Then  let  us  raise  our  eyes  and  souls  to  them. 
And  fire  our  exiles  here  with  some  high  aims 
Above  their  appetites  for  drink  and  play — 
O,  God !  that  men  should  be  so  lost  to  shame ! 
With  our  brave  Southern  hearts,  were  they  but 

trained. 
We  could,  with  pop-guns,  curb  our  foes! 
Pennington. 

No  doubt! 
But  then  they  will  not  fight  us  with  pop-guns — 
The  rascals !  would  they  could  be  brought  to  that ! 

Finley. 
These    cherished    schemes  I  have    laid  bare  to 

Thompson, 
And  asked  for  public  funds  in  aid  of  them, 
And,  by  the  gods  he  only  clutched  his  fist. 
And  yawned !     What  think  you  now  of  such  a  man 
For  a  Confederate  States  Conmmissioner! 

Pennington. 
If  he  did  yawn  in  such  an  argument. 
Then  in  the  argument  a  gap,  I  think. 
There  must  have  been! 

Finley. 
Out  on  your  ill-timed  jests ! 
There's  no  particular  of  kernel  in  them ! 

Pennington. 
Then  I'll  brevet  my  jests,  and  for  your  sake, 
I'll  make  the  kernel  of  them  general; 
And  that  one  which  I  have  promoted  last 
210 


Is  this;  perfect  your  plans;  recruit  your  men; 
And  when  the  thing  is  ripe  for  execution. 
Select  the  place  of  most  immediate  peril, 
And  but  the  least  in  honor,  if  you  will, 
For  Pennington,  and  he  will  second  you. 
And  keep  his  powder  dryer  than  his  wit. 
Which  seems  to  dampen  your  warm  fire  of  zeal ! 

Finley. 
Your  jests  forgiven,  you  will  forgive  one  caution : 
Beware  of  that  Latrobe !     I  know  not  why. 
But  still,  I  say,  my  friend,  beware  of  him ! 
The  world  is  not  as  new  to  me  as  you. 
This  fellow,  were  he  what  he  seems  to  be, 
Vulgarian  merely,  simple,  unalloyed. 
We  might  endure;  but  there  is  something  more; 
Have  you  not  seen  on  entering  a  room. 
How  his  quick  glance  drinks  in  its  occupants? 
A  thief  upon  the  street-car  does  the  same. 
To  see  if  it  contains  an  oflScer; 
Nothing  escapes  his  eye,  or  ear,  or  notice; 
He  questions  with  remorseless  energy. 
Yet  answers  vaguely  all  addressed  to  him; 
He  knows  us  all,  yet  none  of  us  knows  him; 
He  drinks  with  all,  yet  never  to  excess ; 
Though  rude  of  speech  he  never  blurts  nor  trips, 
Which  is  the  test  of  judgment  after  all. 
He  much  affects  your  company,  my  friend; 
Again  I  say,  beware  of  him,  nor  let 
Him  tempt  you  into  wine;     pray  pardon  me — 
The  bar  is  ally  of  the  bilUard-table — 
You  know  our  Southern  faults ! 
Pennington. 
And  guard  them  too! 

The  worst  about  Latrobe  you  have  not  said — 
He  makes  but  fifteen  on  a  run  at  billiards ! 
I'll  see  he  makes  no  unfair  points  on  us! 

[Exit] 
211 


Finley.  [Alone.] 
And  such  is  the  material  we  build  with! 
No  better  than  the  mass  of  them — no  worse; 
Brave,  generous,  and  stranger  to  all  fraud. 
But  fuddled  with  exuberance  of  youth. 
And  given  to  wine,  and  every  paltry  game — 
I  never  yet  have  known  a  head  for  billiards 
Was  worth  the  intercession  of  the  saints !     [ExlU 


212 


ACT  II 

Scene  I. — Private  parlor  in  same  Hotel.     Present : 
Lairobe,  Pennington. 

Latrobe. 
Pennington,  my  boy,  you've  lost  your  spirits; 
The  very  marrow  of  your  bones  is  dry; 
Are  you  my  friend,  that  wont  to  rollick  so. 
With  inf 'nite  jest,  and  a  most  exc'lent  fancy. 
As  Booth  says  in  the  play;— or  are  you  not? 

Pennington. 
Not! 

Latrobe. 
And  I  pray  your  grace  to  tell  me  why? 
I  see  you  oft^i  with  a  petticoat. 
And  fear  that  Love,  whom  Shakspeare  says  is  blind 
In  looking  for  your  heart  has  found  your  gizzard. 

Pennington. 
To  hit  me  in  the  gizzard  were  a  foul 
Of  Love,  who  thus  should  make  a  fowl  of  me ! 
I'll  never  be  made  game  of  so! 

Latrobe. 

The  devil! 
I  never  knew  a  gallant  of  true  metal 
In  love,  but  that  he  bore  it  beautiful ! 
If  her  you  love  is  happy,  you  should  be — 
For  love's  a  camel-lion,  as  they  say, 
And  makes  the  lord  the  color  of  his  mistress ; 
If  she  is  sad,  she  pines  for  you,  therefore 
You  should  be  merry;  if  she  loves  another, 
213 


Go  make  your  rival  jealous,  whom  being  sad, 
It  follows  you,  the  cause  of  it,  are  happy; 
So  that  a  man  of  parts,  in  love,  should  be 
All  happiness;  as  for  my  single  self, 
I*m  never  happy,  save  when  I'm  in  love! 

Pennington, 
How  was  it  when  that  actor  cudgeled  you 
For  following  a  ballet-dancer  home? 
You  were  not  happy  then? 

Latrobe. 


I  was  till  he 


Of  baser  sort  broke  my  feUcity. 
Pennington. 
I  thought  he  only  broke  your  head! 
Latrobe. 


Egad! 


He  was  a  breaker  I'd  not  counted  on 

Upon  the  stream  of  love,  which  never  yet 

Ran  smooth;  the  beast!  to  think  to  check  its  course 

By  such  a  useless  patent  wrong  as  that! 

Pennington. 
Nay,  rather  say  a  useful  patent  right, 
With  your  head  for  his  wooden  model !     O, 
I've  seen  the  time  when  I  could  laugh  at  you, 
Ten  hours  a  day  for  this  scrap  of  your  life — 
But  I  am  sick;  my  home  comes  back  tonight, 
And  that  word  exile  haunts  my  waning  spirits ! 
Through  wounds,  and  danger,  thirst,  and  prison- 
walls, 
And  all  of  grim  War's  fell  vicissitudes, 
I  ne'er  in  spirit  felt  a  weight  before — 
I  think  the  women  call  it  sad — or  blue. 

Latrobe. 
I  think  they  call  it  green,  for  you  are  jealous; 
Or,  if  you  have  not  reached  that  stage  as  yet, 
'Tis  simply  rose-color. 


214 


Pennington, 

What  mean  you,  man? 
I'm  dull,  and  scarcely  in  a  mood  for  jesting. 

Latrobe. 
It  is  a  jest  or  not,  as  you  incline; 
Demme !  to  see  as  fast  a  brig  as  you 
Had  ought  to  be,  run  down  with  all  on  board, 
And  sunk,  by  such  a  taut  and  saucy  smack, 
Trim  though  she  be,  and  finely  timbered  too! 

Pennington. 
I  do  not  catch  the  drift-sail  of  your  craft; 
I  say,  again,  I  am  not  well  tonight. 

Latrobe, 
Nor  will  be  Pen,  while  Kate  McDonald  stays; 
O,  demme!  do  not  redden  in  the  visage ! 
She  does  not  waste  her  pretty  thoughts  on  thou! 
Can  you  not  see  who  has  a  good  thing  on't? 
I  thought  you  were  a  weasel! 
Pennington. 

Are    they    fond 
Of  blood? 

Latrobe. 
Well,  now  you  are  shouting — ^you  are! 
For  Kate  McDonald  has  as  good  a  blood 
As  any  in  New  York,  or  Canada — 
Or,  for  that,  any  of  your  Southern  bloods ! 

Pennington. 
If  this  be  so,  how  dare  vulgarians 
Like  you,  to  sport  and  bandy  with  her  name. 
Which  rides  upon  your  plebeian  Hps  like  Ulies 
Upon  a  lagoon's  green  and  stagnant  slime! 

Latrobe. 
Who  call  you  plebeian?     I'd  have  you  know 
My  father's  father  was  a  ba-rion ! 
Egad! 

Pennington. 
No  doubt  of  it — bar-ba-rian! 
215 


His  son's  son  well  attests  such  high  descent! 

Latrobe. 
I  understand  you  sir!     I  ask  you  pardon! 
You  do  not  like  that  Finley  cares  for  Kate; 
For  all  of  that  I  tell  you  Kate's  a  bird ! 
She's  soft  on  Finley,  too,  as  all  can  see. 
That  Finley  has  put  up  a  job  on  you; 
He  has  Kate  on  the  stream,  and  they  go  down 
If  some  one  does  not  choke  the  wheels  for  them; 
That  Kate's  a  pretty  woman  I  confess — 
The  loveliest  in  all  New  York! 
But  then  she  paints  her  cheeks — she  daubs  the  cos- 
mos— ! 

Pennington. 
You  spoke  of  Miss  McDonald,  sir? 
Latrobe. 


Pennington. 
Did  you  not  say  she  was  a  bird? 
Latrobe. 

Pennington. 
And  paints  her  cheeks — I  think  you  said 
Latrobe. 


I  did! 


I  did! 


I  did! 


Pennington —  [rising .  ] 
Know  then,  damned  poisonous  tarantula, 
With  fangs  more  deadly  than  the  asp's — because 
You've  dared  to  drip  the  poison  of  your  tongue 
Upon  a  pure  and  spotless  girl — a  stranger — 
With  no  protecting  brother  to  rebut 
Presumption  of  acquaintance  with  yourself — 
For  thisy  with  fang  of  honest  indignation, 
I  mean  to  draw  upon  yourself  for  blood, 
And  choke  the  stream  of  your  base  utterance, 
Until  your  vile  offending  tongue  drops  out. 
And  with  that  ulcerous  member  faint  your  cheeks 
216 


The  crimson  which  no  blush  e'er  varnished  them! 

[Seizes   Latrobe   by   the   throat.] 
Latrobe. 
Help!     help!     murder! 

[Cries    without — *help!    hold    there!'     Crowd 
rushes  in   to  the  dssistance  of  Latrobe. 
Exeunt  omnes.] 

Scene  II. — Private  Parlor  in  same  Hotel.     Present : 
Finleyy  Kate  McDonald. 

Finley. 
[Presents  to  Kate  a  sealed  package.] 
Here  then  at  last,  dear  Kate,  we  have  the  casket 
Which  holds  the  jewel,  safety,  for  your  father, 
Except  his  foes  prove  traitors  to  our  hopes. 
And  their  most  solemn  duty  to  their  oaths ; 
But  one  name  on  the  list  you  furnished  us 
Have  we  permitted  to  escape  our  search. 
And  all  attest  your  father's  innocence. 
Come  now,  cheer  up !  and  let  the  sun  of  hope. 
New-risen  on  this  mom  of  most  sweet  light, 
Turn  all  your  gloom  of  sadness  into  joy. 
Kate. 

[Takes  the  package.] 
O,  sweet  resolvent  of  the  hardest  trial 
A  life  not  free  from  them  has  ever  known, 
I  press  you  to  my  heart,  and  may  its  throb 
Add  to  the  impulse  which  shall  bear  you  hence 
On  wings  of  steam,  until  you  reach  the  gates 
Which  you  shall  melt  to  set  my  father  free ! 
And  you,  my  friend,  how  can  I  thank 

Finley. 

No  thanks! 
I  did  but  make  return,  in  kind,  to  one 
Who  when  a  stranger  took  me  in,  and  fed. 
And  clothed,  and  sheltered  me,  disguised  amid 
My  country's  enemies,  and  therefore  mine ! 
217 


Kate. 
0,  friend,  brother,  and  more!  what  shall  I  offer 
In  recompense  of  this  great  boon  to  you? 
All  that  I  have — all  that  I  am !  ah,  me ! 
What  do  I  say!     Perhaps  I  am  too  bold — 
Is  there  no  offering  that  I  can  make? 
You  seem  so  strangely  cold  with  all  this  goodness — 
Finley. 
[Aside.     How  wonderfully  beautiful!] 
I  am  your  friend — remember  me  as  such! 

Kate. 
And  nothing  more?  *  *  I  would  not  have  you  more 
Of  course.     *  *  O!  I  could  weep  my  soul  away! 

Finley. 
Dear  Kate,  transcendent  in  your  wondrous  beauty, 
Since  we  are  friends,  and  never  can  be  more, 
I  would  we  thought  upon  our  missions  only; 
To  save  a  father  yours;  my  country  mine; 
Both  to  be  true  to  God,  and  to  ourselves ! 

Kate. 
I'd  scarcely  to  myself  be  true,  if  you 
Were  false  to  me — 

Finley. 
I  have  been  true  to  friendship. 
Nor  must  I  let  the  power  of  your  beauty. 
Which  shines  with  lustre  far  beyond  the  dreams 
Which  each  divinest  art,  or  finest  fiction, 
Has  ever  drawn  to  entertain  my  fancy. 
Cast  in  eclipse  the  memory  of  her 
Whose  pictured  image  sits  upon  my  breast. 
Rocked  on  the  cradle  of  life's  vital  spring, 
Heart-shrined,    and    like    an    altarpiece,    heart- 
worshipped. 
'Tis  fitter,  Kate,  that  I  should  see  no  more 
Your  most  exquisite  beauty.     Fare — ^you — well! 

Kate. 

O,  God! 
218 


You  are  not  going?     Then  take  back  your  boon! 
[She  falls — Finley  catches  her.] 
Finley. 
Sweet,  precious  flower  of  beauty,  let  me  bear 
Thee  up!     There,  there  now!  softly!  Kate!  dear 

Kate! 
What  do  I  say — revive,  sweet  Kate! 

[Enter  Pennington  and  Latrobe.] 

Pennington — [aside  to  Latrobe.] 
What  do  I  see?     What  means  this  dalliance? 

Latrobe. 
O,  nothing!  you  said  I  should  not  speak  her  name; 
See  for  yourself;  egad!  he  has  a  nice  thing! 
I  think  he  is  your  confidant!  your  friend! 

Pennington. 
He  was  before  he  died!     For  a  few  days 
Before  his  death,  he  was  my  enemy; 
Such  men  are  very  short-lived  in  the  South! 
He  kneels  so  ardently  he  does  not  see  us ! 

[To  Finley.] 
Your  pardon,  sir!  and  hers,  your  mistress  there! 
We  are  untimely  in  our  entrance  here; 
But  I  have  urgent  business  with  you,  sir. 
That  will  not  brook  delay;  could  not  you  name 
Your  friend  at  once?     I  bring  mine,  as  you  see. 
Latrobe. 
[Aside.  Egad  excuse  me!    The  medicine  works!] 
The  lady,  sirs !  You  will  not  quarrel  here. 
You    have    dropt    something.  Miss   McDonald, 

might  I 
Escort  you  to  your  room — ^you*re  looking  pale? 

Kate. 
I  thank  you  sir;  that  package  is  of  value; 
I'll  take  it,  if  you  please — 

[Exeunt    Latrobe    and    Kate.] 
Finley. 
Be  calmer,  Pennington;  you  are  too  rash — 
219 


Too  hasty  in  your  words,  and  unjust  thoughts — 
Which  wrong  yourself  far  more  than  Kate  or  me. 
Of  this  I  can  most  easily  satisfy  you. 

Pennington. 
The  extent  of  my  demand  is  satisfaction, 
And  that  a  gentleman  will  not  refuse; 
I'm  glad  you  are  so  prompt  to  tender  it. 

Finley. 
How  can  you  ever  right  yourself  when  wrong, 
If  you  disdain  to  hsten?     You  are  too  rash. 

Pennington. 
Less  rash,  were  not  to  be  more  rational. 
In  such  a  case  as  this ;  when  I  am  wronged. 
As  I  have  been  most  foully  by  yourself, 
I  right  myself  by  means  all  gentlemen 
Approve. 

Finley. 
You  are  not  wronged,  save  by  yourself; 
This  breast  may  domicile  much  fault,  and  harbor 
Full  many  a  thought  below  the  height  of  virtue, 
But  as  to  practising  upon  a  friend. 
Or  making  false  return  of  confidence 
Wherein  he's  trusted  me,  I  hold  myself 
Too  high  above  the  crime  for  utterance! 
Upon  the  heels  of  our  new  enterprise. 
Full  of  great  peril,  and  the  germs  of  fame, 
And  rife  with  import  to  our  Southern  cause. 
You  fall  in  love  with  one  who  has  rare  beauty. 
And  tender  me,  unsought,  your  confidence; 
I,  failing  to  dissuade  you  from  your  suit. 
Have  promised  to  advance  your  cause  whene'er 
Our  higher  call  of  duty  will  permit; 
Now  think  you  I'm  a  man  to  falsify 
My  word? 

Pennington. 
By  Heaven!     I  will  not  doubt  my  eyes. 
And  they  have  certified  you  such  a  man ! 

220 


When  we  have  interchanged  our  shots,  perhaps 
My  sight  may  be  less  sensitive. 
FinUy. 

Well,  then. 
Let  us  postpone  our  griefs  while  country  calls. 
Whose  voice  should  drown  the  voice  of  private 

wrongs. 
When  once  our  present  enterprise  is  done, 
I  give  my  word  as  bail  to  satisfy  you. 

Pennington. 
I  have  had  bale  enough  of  you  already, 
And  it  is  hard  for  insult  or  gross  wrong. 
With  patience,  to  fold  its  hands  and  wait. 
But  yet  I  will  postpone  this  quarrel  now. 
To  see  our  venture  through,  and  then — 

[Re-enter  Latrobe.] 
Latrobe. 
[Aside    I  must  cut  them  short.] 
Excuse  me,  gentlemen;  Miss  Kate  McDonald 
Sent  me  to  ask  an  interview  with  you — 
With  Pennington  alone. 

Finley. 

I  will  retire. 
Pennington. 
Give  her  my  compliments  and  tell  her  no! 

[Exeunt] 


221 


ACT  III 

Scene  I. — Same  place.     Present :  Kate  McDonald^ 

Latrohe. 

Latrobe. 

Miss  McDonald,  I  have  a  letter  here  for  you, 
given  me  this  moment  at  the  office.  It  may  be 
urgent,  seeing  it  is  from  New  York,  and  marked 
^official/ 

Kate. 

O,  urgent  as  life  itself — I  cannot  open  it — ^will 
you  break  the  seal — ^there — thank  you! 

[She  reads  with  emotion.] 
"Headquarters,  Department  of  the  Eabt. 
Miss  Kate  McDonald,  Canada  East: 

Madam — This  will  be  mailed  to  you  by  the 
American  Consul.  The  order  for  a  suspension  of 
the  execution  of  Roland  McDonald  until  deposi- 
tions could  be  taken  in  Canada,  and  forwarded,  was 
made  out  of  abundant  mercy  by  the  General 
Commanding.  Since  then,  the  Judge  Advocate 
upon  his  staff,  has  decided  they  could  not  be  read, 
even  if  received  in  time,  because  the  law  requires 
all  testimony  to  be  reduced  to  writing  in  presence 
of  the  Commission.  Therefore  there  is  no  hope 
from  that  quarter.  But  the  General  Commanding 
is  informed  that  there  sometime  resorted  in  Canada 
a  most  notorious  rebel  and  traitor — one  Carter 
Bland,  alias  Captain  Bland.  It  is  said  he  is  a 
friend  of  yours,  and  has  a  strong  attachment  to 
you,  so  much  so  that  if  in  Canada,  he  has  proba- 
222 


bly  made  himself  known  to  you.  The  proposition 
is  this:  if  you  will  induce  your  acquaintance. 
Bland,  to  visit  the  United  States,  or  will  in  any 
way  contribute  to  his  extradition  to,  or  arrest  in 
the  United  States,  the  General  Commanding  will 
relieve  your  father  from  the  sentence  of  the  Com- 
mission, and  restore  him  to  his  family.  It  is  under- 
stood, if  you  accept  this  offer,  that  the  life  of 
Bland,  if  you  contribute  to  his  arrest,  is  to  be 
spared.  Your  father  has  been  informed  of  this 
proposition,  and  counsels  your  acceptance.  His 
execution  is  fixed  for  two  days  hence,  and  there- 
fore to  avail  yourself  of  this  offer,  you  must  answer 
favorably  by  return  of  mail,  when  a  respite  will  be 
granted,  and  ample  time  given  you  to  secure  the 
arrest  of  Bland. 

Van  Dyke. 
Captain  and  Adjutant  Ceneral." 

O !  horror  upon  horrors,  more  than  gloom 

Of  clouds,  thrice- veiling  all  the  eye  of  heaven ! 

Where  can  I  turn  that  darkness  does  not  smite 

Upon  my  breast,  my  head,  my  soul,  my  hopes! 

Break  now,  my  heart !  no  longer  drive  your  blood 

In  swift  aortal  currents  to  the  brain. 

That  has  to  counterpoise  a  father's  life 

In  equal  balance  with  a  lover's  fate! 

Am  I  so  fallen,  that  the  tyrant  thinks 

I  would  turn  traitor  to  my  sex,  and  trade 

In  love  for  liberty,  or  Hfe  itself? 

And  my  poor  father — can  it  be  that  he 

Has  fallen  from  that  pinnacle,  where  throned. 

Through  sickness,  or  in  poverty,  he  sat. 

And  taught  his  children  to  abhor  a  lie ! 

No !  foul  slanderer,  no !     I  thus  resent 

Your  slander,  and  despise  your  bribe ! 

[Stamps  on  the  letter,] 

223 


Latrohe, 

The  letter 
Seems  to  have  quite  unsettled  you — perhaps 
It  brings  bad  tidings  from  your  father? 
Kate. 

You  here! 
I  thought  you  had  gone  out.     You  did  not  hear — 
No  matter — my  father  is  dead !  and  I 
Am  dead !  and  all  are  dead  to  me  I  love ! 
Excuse  me,  sir!     You  have  been  kind  to  me! 
Latrobe. 
[Aside      Egad!  now  I  must  play  my  bower!] 
Now  that  your  friends  you  did  affect  the  most 
Are  gone — 

Kate, 
Whom  mean  you? 
Latrohe. 

Finley,  Pennington. 
Kate. 
Are  gone?     Did  you  say  gone? 
Latrohe. 

I  might  have  said, 
For  they  leave  in  the  morning  ere  the  dawn — 
They  are  to  call  them  at  the  dawn  to  leave — 
And  I  was  going  to  make  bold  to  say. 
As  any  seeing  you  distressed,  might  say. 
If  you  will  trust  me  to  peruse  the  letter, 
I  may  suggest  some  means  of  serving  you. 
I  am  no  court-a-year,  as  one  would  say. 
But  have  a  heart,  you  know. 
Kate. 

Yes,  read  the  letter; 
Nothing  can  injure  or  assist  me  now; 
Read  you,  or  do  not  read;  it  matters  not. 

[He  reads.] 
O,  is  there  nothing  that  can  stay  the  tide 
Of  this  dark  dream  that  hurries  on  my  soul 
224 


In  sable  currents,  which  I  cannot  stem? 
If  he  is  gone,  what  do  I  here  behind? 
One  gone!     one  dead!  there  is  no  difference! 
O,  I  did  love  you,  father,  with  a  love 
That  made  the  earth  religious  where  you  trod. 
And  sweetened  daily  contact  with  the  world, 
Until  the  strife  like  lover*s  quarrels,  seemed 
All  pleasure,  rounded  by  your  kiss  at  night. 
You  were  the  sum  of  parentage  for  me, 
My  father,  and  my  mother,  all  in  one; 
We  were  but  two  frail  branches  on  your  stem; 
Deprived  of  you,  we  wither  ere  we  bloom ; 
Deprived  of  us,  your  offshoots — and  you  like 
The  evergreen  that  pruning  bleeds  to  death — 
Will  wane,  and  perish  at  the  root,  and  fall ! 
Spurred  on  by  this,  I'll  to  the  Commandant, 
Aiid  stab  him  to  the  heart,  and  let  them  say, 
A  second  Marat  found  a  new  Corday ! 

Latrohe, 
Forgive  my  weakness;  I  don't  often  salt 
The  briny  in  this  way;  your  case  is  sad : 
But — let  me  see;  there's  Pennington  that  knew 
This  Bland,  for  he  has  often  told  me  so; 
But  he  is  gone;  and  Finley  too  is  off — 
He  goes  the  mom;  his  wedding,  when  he  bid 
Me  his  adieu,  he  said  was  fixed  a  week. 
Shall  be  tomorrow,  and  that  made  his  leaving 
The  more  imperative — 

Kate. 

His  wedding!  whose? 
Now  I  have  stood  enough!     Are  you  hell's  raven. 
That  croaks  me  on  to  death  and  self-destruction? 
Whose  wedding  ?     Whose  ?    I  will  not  hear  you  say 
Those  words  again,  except  to  disconnect. 
And  utterly  divorce  them  from  his  name ! 
Of  whom  were  you  about  to  speak? 


Latrobe, 

Excuse  me; 
I  think  you  did  not  hear  me  right — I  said 
That  Finley's  marriage  was  tomorrow  week. 
Except  some  accident  forestalled — 

Kate. 

ItshaU! 
It  shall!  by  every  oath  that  God  will  let 
Me  swear,  there  shall  an  accident  prevent! 
Go  now,  and  leave  me  to  myself — or  stay — 
This  letter,  as  you  see,  I  have  to  answer; 
Think  you  it  possible  for  me — a  woman — 
To  find  a  man  that  she  could  trust? 
Latrobe. 

I  do! 
I  offered,  thinking  you  had  such  a  need. 

Kate. 
I  have;  this  letter  here  speaks  of  one  Bland; 
Now  you  have  gathered  some  experience — 
What  think  you  they  would  do  with  Bland,  if  I 
Persuaded  by  a  daughter's  love,  should  yield? 

Latrobe. 
This  letter  pledges  them  to  spare  his  life — 

Kate. 
Does  it  do  so?     I  had  not  noted  that. 
Let  me  see  that  again;  *the  life  of  Bland 
Is  to  be  spared:'  'tis  promised,  as  you  said; 
Now  I  do  need  that  man  I  told  you  of; 
And  yet,  however  faithful,  he  must  swear 
An  oath  to  me;  would  you  kneel  down  and  swear? 
Do  not,  unless  you  mean  to  keep  your  oath, 
For  if  you  break,  the  earth  contains  no  spot 
To  shield  you  from  your  conscience  or  my  hate. 
They  seem  to  think  I  know  where  Bland  conceals; 
Suppose  I  did,  and  should  communicate 
To  you  the  secret  of  his  hiding-place, 
Conditioned  that  the  knowledge  should  be  used 


As  I  restrained,  and  never  any  harm 
Be  done  to  Bland  by  you,  save  as  I  willed — 
Would  you  assist  me  thus  to  save  my  father. 
With  such  the  least  small  peril  to  this  Bland? 

Latrobe. 
I  would;     I  would  assist  you  anything. 
With  no  reward,  except  to  see  your  beauty. 

Kate. 
We  will  rest  here,  I  think,  your  answer  does 
Not  indicate  the  man  I'm  seeking  for. 

Latrobe. 
If  not,  my  answer  done  my  purpose  wrong; 
I  too  am  friendly  to  the  South,  and  this 
Would  lead  me  not  to  injure  Bland  except 
You  ordered  it. 

Kate. 

I  have  no  Bible  here — 
This  silver  cross  was  given  me  by  Bland, 
And  I  have  worn  it  on  my  bosom  since; 
I  will  swear  you  on  that;  kneel  down  and  swear! 
Latrobe. 
[Aside       Egad!  I'd  swear  my  father  was  an 


ape!] 
I  swear! 


Kate. 


What? 


Latrobe. 
That  1*11  preserve  your  secret. 
And  never  use  it  to  Bland's  injury. 
Except  you,  through  necessity,  command; 
I  will  obey  your  wishes  as  to  him. 
Without  remuneration  save  your  thanks! 

Kate. 
Enough!    your  kissing  more  than  once  may  make 
Me  think  you  lay  more  stress  on  gallantry 
Than  on  the  deep  solemnity  of  oaths; 


227 


My  secret  then  is  told :  'tis  Finley !    He 
Is  Bland! 

Latrobe. 
[Aside      Aha!     By  Jove,  I  knew  it!] 
What!  he  that  was  just  present  here  with  us, 
And  leaves  so  soon  to  marry,  as  he  said? 

Kate. 
No!  he  that  was  just  here,  and  must  not  marry! 
You  know  his  movements;  he  is  in  disguise; 
He  goes  into  the  States;  we  must  arrest. 
And  have  him  taken  to  New  York,  and  then 
Your  part  is  done;  leave  all  the  rest  to  me! 

Latrohe. 
Now  let  me  see;  firstly,  are  you  quite  sure 
That  this  is  Bland— this  Finley? 
Kate. 

I  am  sure — 
Address  yourself  to  secondly. 
Latrohe. 

Then  second : 
Who  can  we  find  to  shadow  him,  arrest, 
Or  give  us  information  of  his  motions? 
I  know  them  not —  but  there  is  one  that  does — 

KaU. 
Pennington. 

Latrobe. 
You  have  centered  on  my  mark! 
The  wax  to  give  us  mould  of  Bland's  intent 
Is  Pennington!     Like  all  of  us,  he  loves — 
By  your  sweet  turn  of  charming,  you  must 
Receive  the  imprint.     He  will  give  it  up. 

Kate. 
Go  send  him  here.     I  will  prepare  myself. 

[Exit  Latrohe.] 
And  has  it  come  to  this?     An  hour  ago — 
One  short,  short  hour,  and  there  was  Kate  Mc- 
Donald, 


That  stood  symbolical  of  virtue's  self! 

But  her  they  gave  sepulture  with  her  father! 

As  in  the  Spring  they  bury  bulbs,  eye  downward, 

So  have  they  me — my  'I'  that  was  is  down — 

Is  sunk  obscured,  and  force  must  resurrect 

Another  Kate  McDonald  from  the  dead. 

With   breast  annealed,  more  hard  than  Clytem- 

nestre. 
And  yet,  who  is  there  that  shall  call  it  crime 
To  save  a  father,  innocent,  from  death? 
But  how?     Ah,  there's  the  needle,   conscience- 
sharp  !  *  * 
She  shall  not  wed  my  brave,  my  beautiful — 
The  Southern  harridan !     In  phantasy 
I  see  her,  as  I've  heard  her  race  described; 
Black  slaves  to  dress  her  golden-curling  hair — 
Her  hands,  unused  to  toil,  soft  as  a  child's — 
With  all  the  regal  air  of  some  sultanna, 
Reclining  on  soft  cushions  in  the  day, 
And  rising  when  the  sim,  barred  out  too  long 
From  her  boudoir,  stands  sentinel  at  noon ! 
She  shall  not  marry  him !     His  life  being  spared, 
As  they  have  in  this  contract  promised  me, 
I  will  persuade  him  that  my  intercession 
Saved  it,  and  made  it  due  as  debt  to  me. 
In  this  my  game,  Fll  make  a  pawn  of  time^ 
And  date  my  answer  to  the  Commandant 
Beyond  his  capture,  if  we  shall  succeed; 
I  will  protest  that  having  learned  his  capture, 
I  did  but  venture  on  this  strategy 
To  save  him.     Prisoned,  I  will  visit  him, 
And  read  him  favorite  books,  and  comfort  him — 
I'll  win  upon  him  more  and  more  each  day — 
My  father  free — my  darling  all  my  own — 
Come  Pennington!     I  will  perform  my  part, 
And  tune  your  boyish  thoughts  to  my  own  will. 


That  every  note  your  tongue  shall  sing  may  give 
Fit  music  to  my  purpose  to  deceive! 

Scene  II. — Private  Parlor  in  the  same  Hotel.   Pres- 
ent:   Kate  McDonald)  Pennington. 

Pennington. 
Latrobe  delivered  me  a  message  from  you, 
That  you  did  wish  a  word  with  me. 
Kate  McDonald. 

I  so 
Instructed  him,  though  not  to  urge  your  coming, 
Should  you  still  have  the  pique  you  had  this  eve. 
Which  you  on  slight  suspicion  did  conceive. 

Pennington. 
Conception  has  by  Nature  been  ordained. 
And  wisely,  as  a  thing  outside  our  will; 
You  did  deny  that  you  affected  Finley — 
And  yet,  I  found  you  in  his  arms ! 
Kate. 

For  shame! 
You  foolish  boy !     I  had  bad  tidings,  sent 
By  letter,  of  my  father  in  New  York. 
I  opened,  read,  and  fainted — that  was  all! 

Pennington. 
He  kissed  you  then,  to  bring  back  consciousness? 
Would  I  were  bearer  of  bad  news  to  you, 
If  kissing  be  the  curative  you  use ! 

Kate. 
I  think  you  have  mistook  my  message,  sir! 
I  did  not  send  for  you  to  be  insulted ! 
I  have  no  friends — 

[She  weeps.] 
My  father  bound  in  chains — 
No  brother  to  resent  your  imputations. 
Or  they  were  not  so  lightly  cast  on  me. 
I  thought  you  boasted  of  your  chivalry ! 

230 


Pennington. 
Thus  far  I  do  that  it  will  not  endure 
That  man  betray  his  trust  to  friendship  due. 
Or  woman  hers  to  virtue. 
Kate. 

And  the  proof 
You  give  is  this — to  misconstrue,  insult, 
And  hector  women,  whom  you  should  protect — 
Who  trusting,  lean  upon  you  for  support. 
And  count  upon  your  friendship  when  in  need? 
Do  I  not  care  ten  thousand  times  as  much 
For  you,  as  for — ^but  go !     I  am  a  fool 
To  waste  my  thoughts  upon  such  cavaliers ! 
Think  you,  with  this  sad  missive —  [Shows  a  letter.] 

I  had  time, 
Or  will  for  dalHance?     If  Finley  took 
Advantage  of  my  fainting  to  inflict 
A  kiss,  it  was  because  his  chivalry 
Was  only  such  as  yours,  as  now  displayed. 
I  loathe,  detest  you  Southrons  all,  and  rue 
The  day  I  or  my  father  trusted  you! 
Since  then,  your  genius  has  beset  our  house, 
And  prisons,  chains,  affections  misapplied. 
Trials  beyond  endurance  sore,  if  not 
Disgrace,  and  disrepute  among  our  friends. 
And  banishment  from  those  we  love — O  God ! 
Would  that  we  never  had  beheld  your  faces! 

[She  weeps.] 

Pennington. 
Then  have  we  wronged  you  so?     Did  I  believe  it, 
I  would  atone  to  you !     Nay,  do  not  weep ! 

Kate. 
You  have  misused  me,  when  you  knew  my  griefs 
Were  greater  than  my  breaking  heart  could  bear! 

Pennington. 
Forbear  to  weep,  and  I  will  cancel  all 
That  I  have  thought  or  spoke  ungraciously. 
231 


Kate. 
No!     I  have  done!     Go  and  return  no  more! 
Hereafter  think  of  me  as  one  you  wronged 
By  your  most  fooUsh,  groundless  jealousy, 
And  one,  had  you  but  borne  her  different  use. 
That  could  have  made  return,  perchance,  of  what 
You  counterfeited — love — in  truer  coin. 

Pennington. 
Dear  Kate !  dear  lady ! 
Name  any  forfeit  which  offenceless  virtue 
May  claim  from  rude,  suspicious  wrong. 
And  I  will  acquiesce — save  banishment! 
Though  your  sweet  favor  were  a  burning-glass. 
That  but  consumed  me  in  its  focused  rays. 
Yet  would  I  kneel  and  perish  in  your  gaze! 

Kate. 
Nay,  gently!  my  hand   would  fain   decline  your 

kisses 
Nor  are  these  times  for  empty  proofs  of  love. 
Read  that,  and  then  make  proffer  of  your  service. 
And  we  shall  see  what  tax  your  love  will  bear ! 

[He  takes  the  Commandant' s  letter  and  reads.] 

Pennington. 
Aha!     I  gather  in  their  treachery — 
They  know  that  Bland  is  fled,  and  you  can  not 
Redeem  your  father  at  the  price  they  ask! 

Kate. 
They  may  beheve  him  still  in  Canada; 
There  are  that  say  the  monks  conceal  him  here; 
He  was,  I've  heard,  a  very  handsome  man; 
And  I  have  heard  you  much  resemble  him ; 
The  test  to  which  I  might  subject  your  love. 
Did  I  believe  it  holy -pure,  were  this; 
Suppose  that  you  personate  Bland  for  me. 
And  cheat  the  tyrants  of  my  father's  life? 

Pennington. 
They  would  detect  the  counterfeit. 
232 


Kate, 

Ah,  well! 
You  will  not  dare  the  test? 

Pennington. 

I  dare,  but  cannot. 
Kate. 
Enough !     Farewell !     I  knew  you  did  not  love  me ! 

Pennington. 
Nay,  do  not  go!     Could  you  but  know — 
Kate. 

Away! 
Aside,  and  let  me  pass !     I  know  enough ! 
O!  would  that  I  had  lived  in  earlier  times. 
When  Great  Thoughts  made  men  brave  and  true 

and  free! 
When  noble  aims  inspired  heroic  breasts; 
When  glory  fed  the  flame  of  loyalty: 
When  true  ambition  fired  the  soul  of  youth; 
When  pubhc  virtue,  and  not  wealth,  gave  rank; 
When  beauty  guerdoned  high-bred  courtesy; 
When  woman  was  the  prize  of  manly  courage, 
And  knighthood  asked  her  leave  to  die !    For  now 
To  pin  a  shawl  about  her  throat  with  grace. 
Or  kiss  a  lady's  hand,  is  such  a  feat 
As  well  becomes  the  age's  chivalry — 
But,  O!  to  dare  a  noble  deed  for  love. 
Hath  long  been  out  of  date  and  fashion! 
Pennington. 

Nay, 
If  you  but  knew  the  bonds  that  do  constrain  me — 

Kate. 
I  know  them — they  are  links  in  caution's  chain, 
Which  long  hath  rusted  on  your  limbs,  while  others 
In  battle  brightened  theirs;  when  I  seek  next 
A  lover,  he  shall  be  a  bearded  man ! 

Pennington. 
No  man  should  live,  who  bearded  me,  to  boast  it ! 
233 


The  limbs  you  scoff  have  roses  well-impressed, 
Which  once  were  crimson  with  the  sap  of  war: 
And  if  you  will  but  change  the  test  you  make, 
And  bid  me  die,  or  in  a  boat  descend 
Niagara,  or  climb  to  where  immersed 
In  unrelenting  snow,  high  Trinity,  * 
With  his  three  spires,  encroaches  on  the  sky, 
My  honor  once  relieved,  good  faith  dissolved. 
Of  a  most  pressing  and  exacting  charge — 
I  will  obey. 

Kaie. 
What  is  the  charge?     Were  not 
Your  protestations  of  devotion  false. 
You  would  make  me  the  keeper  of  your  honor. 
And  let  me  judge  between  you  and  appointments. 
What  is  your  honor's  charge  that  intervenes? 

Pennington. 
A  charge  of  honor,  it  can  be  discharged 
Only  by  secrecy !  I  dare  not  tell  you. 

Kate. 
Away!    Think  you  I  am  a  wooden  block 
For  you  to  break  but  witty  speech  upon? 
No!     I  am  done!     You  were  my  last  resource! 
Latrobe  and  Finley — all  the  rest  but  you, 
I  hung  no  hopes  upon.     I  thought  there  was 
A  man  among  them  all  named — Pennington! 
You  were  my  last,  save  this — this  is  my  last ! 

[Displays  a  poignard.] 
And  with  its  fatal  edge,  drawn  by  your  cruelty, 
I  hasten  to  anticipate  my  father! 
And  when  this  war  is  closed,  and  you  returned 
Unto  the  boasted  land  of  chivalry. 
Are  safely  in  your  mother's  arms — her  pet — 
Tell  her  you  knew  a  Northern,  orphan  girl, 

*Trinity  Rock,  Saguenay. 

234 


Who  loved  you,  and  you  might  have  saved  her  life, 
But  that  the  enterprise  was  dangerous, 
And  only  compassed  by  contempt  of  fear — 
And  thereupon  you  let  her  die !     Unhand  me ! 

Pennington. 
My  Kate!  my  love,  my  life!    I  will  consent! 
God  judge  between  me,  and  your  life! 

Kate, 

No,  no! 
Let  me,  my  brave,  good  boy,  be  judge  myself; 
Show  me  the  warrant  which  your  honor  serves 
Upon  you,  and  if  thus  confided  in, 
I  do  decide  that  you  are  bound  therein, 
I  will  withdraw  my  test,  and  singly  stem, 
Supported  by  your  confidence,  and  love. 
The  current  of  my  own  career — alone. 

Penningtoniy 
I  will  conceal  nothing;  here  is  my  warrant. 

[Exhibits  a  writing  with  flat.] 

Kate. 
The  test  of  love  is  mutual  confidence; 
Since  you  do  trust,  I  trust  that  you  do  love. 

[She  reads.] 
Is  this  a  living  purpose  written  here. 
Or  merely  figments  of  heroic  plans 
To  feed  some  madman's  fancy! 
Are  you,  fond  boy,  and  Finley  bent  on  this. 
Which  seems  a  venture  so  chimerical? 

Pennington. 
Aye,  we  are  bent  beyond  resilience; 
Not  only  bent,  but  broken,  if  we  fail; 
Finley  repaired  last  night  to  Sarnia,  where 
He  is  to  meet  our  female  Ariel — 
Our  spy,  and  messenger — ^who,  unsuspect, 
Repairs  from  Middle-Bass  to  Canada, 
Or  whither  our  secret  aims  may  need  her  mission. 
Bearing  the  orders  of  our  captain — Finley. 

235 


Kate. 
And  is  she  beautiful — this  Ariel — 
And  young,  or  old  and  withered?         Whence  came 

she? 
Does  Finley  much  affect  his  messenger? 

Pennington. 
You  seem  to  feel  an  interest  in  him, 
And  his  effects.     I  was  enlarging  on 
A  matter  more  immediate  to  our  purpose — 

Kate. 
What !     jealous  still  ?     You  need  not  be — you  boy ! 
I  only  wondered  that  a  woman  bred 
As  softly  as  your  Southern  matrons  are, 
And  with  the  native  mildness  of  her  sex, 
Could  learn  the  lessons  Nature  teaches  men — 
Therefore  I  did  inquire  of  this  lady. 

Pennington. 
She  is  a  woman — beautiful  and  good — 
And  this  is  all  I  know. 

Kate. 
Enough — too  much ! 

This  writing  clears  the  rest ;  you  are  to  meet 
At  Middle-Bass,  and  rendezvous;  the  hours 
Are  given  of  the  'Island  Fay,'  that  phes 
From  Sandusky  around  the  isles — what  for? 

Pennington. 
We  are  to  board  and  seize  her — that  is  all; 
Each  man  of  us  has  given  him  his  part — 
To  seize  or  shoot  the  pilot  mine. 
Kate. 

O!   God!     *    * 
But  that  you've  made  me  umpire  of  your  duty. 
At  this  the  outset  of  your  rash  design, 
I  would  persuade  you  to  forego  its  madness. 

Pennington. 
But  since  my  comrades  are  embarked — can  I 
Forego,  when  they  already  are  foregone? 
236 


Kate. 
No!     No!     your  honor  bids  you  forward  now! 
I,  who  had  challenged  you  to  save  my  father. 
Through  risk  most  manifest  to  you  of  peril, 
Will  not  lay  my  embargo  on  the  path 
That  honor,  which  is  more  than  life,   points  out. 
No!     I  will  on  to  New  York  by  myself. 
And  now,  good  night!  time  calls  me  hence  to  act; 
You've  given  proof  of  love — of  love,  I  may. 

Pennington. 
The  May  of  that  sweet  promise  makes  my  life 
A  garden  full  of  roses  in  its  Spring! 
God  bless  and  keep  you.  Lady!     but  one  kiss? 
I  would  return  and  borrow  it  again. 
And  then  restore  with  double  use,  until 
The    principal    was    quadrupled — 
Good  night!  [Exit  Pennington.] 

[Kate  sits  musing.] 

\Re-enter  Latrobe.] 
Well,  you  have  interviewed  this  boy — what  now? 

Kate. 
All  now  my  purposes  demand  is  known; 
At  Middle-Bass,  an  Erie-bosomed  isle — 
You  know  it — Bland,  disguised  as  I  have  told  you. 
Would  intercept  the  'Island  Fay,'  a  boat 
Which  plies  from  Sandusky  to  Detroit  and  back! 
His  object  is  not  plain,  save  naval  war; 
It  matters  not;  you  must  arrest  and  take 
Him  to  New  York,  and  save  Roland  McDonald! 
And  that  being  done,  my  father's  daughter  will 
Endeavor  to  requite  you  as  she  may. 

Latrobe. 
This  looks  like  business;  what  is  the  day? 
You  made  quite  sure  of  that? 

237 


Kate. 
'Tis  Saturday — 

At  Middle-Bass — upon  the  eastern  side — 
The  accustomed  landing  of  the  *Island  Fay,' 
As  she  goes  south  from  Sandusky. 

Latrobe. 
I  have  it.         [Writes  in  his  memorandum-hook.] 

Kate. 
And  now  farewell !     I  must  to  New  York  early. 
And  there  await  the  issue  of  your  plans. 
Remember,  Bland  is  to  be  captured  harmless. 
And  so  delivered  in  New  York. 
Good  night !  [Exit  Kate.] 

Latrobe — [alone.] 

That  woman  is  the  prettiest  thing  in  nature! 
She  is  a  morning-star !  'Twas  such  a  one  came  so 
near  salting  down  old  Davy,  the  Jew,  for  good  and 
all !  If  she  was  to  play  for  my  soul,  she  would  win, 
unless  the  devil  should  play  against  her;  then  it 
would  be  who  should  and  who  should  not,  between 
the  Old  Boy  and  the  Young  Maid ! 

But  enough  of  her — business  is  business!    Let 
me  see: 
[Takes  out  his  memoranda,  and  reads.] 

Tor  that  notorious  guerrilla  chief.  Carter  Bland, 
alias  Captain  Bland,  Five  Thousand  Dollars.' 

That  will  do — write  after  that — *bagged.' 

*For  any  rebel  or  traitor,  harboring  in  Canada, 
who  has  conspired  to  make  raids  into  the  United 
States,  or  aided  and  encouraged  the  same,  One 
Thousand  Dollars.' 

That  will  do,  for  the  balance  of  them ;  in  particu- 
lar, for  my  young  rooster,  Pennington,  with  his 
cock-a-doodle-doo,  high-cockalorum  quirks  and 
quiddities.  Damn  the  fellow,  how  I  played  it  off 
on  him !  One  thousand  dollars  apiece — about  what 
they  would  sell  a  likely  nigger  for.  Think  of  me 
238 


selling  them  at  market  price !  Egad !  going !  going ! 
gone!  for  one  thousand  dollars!  Who'll  take  the 
next  at  the  same  figure?  They  are  worth  more  to 
hang  then  anything  else!     Ha!  ha! 

[Exit] 


2S9 


ACT  IV 

Scene  I. — Headquarters  Department  of  the  East, 
New  York  City.  Present:  The  Commandant; 
Captain  Van  Dyke,  his  adjutant-general;  Dennis 
Mahon,  Esq.;  Pompey;  Doctor  Froisart;  Guards- 
men, etc. 

Commandant. 
Pompey!  bring  in  the  prisoner!  Doctor  Froisart, 
you  are  arrested,  by  virtue  of  martial  law  which 
has  been  declared  in  this  city,  for  not  paying  the 
bill  of  this  small  dealer,  Mr.  Thomas  Brown;  and 
lawyer  Mahon  here,    represents  said  shopkeeper 
Brown;  now,  have  either  of  you  any  witness? 
Mahon. 
My  client  has  but  one,  and  he  is  a  man  in  the 
Tombs,  one  Roland  McDonald,  who  was  present 
when  this  Frenchman  acknowledged  he  owed  us 
a  bill,   but   said   he  could  not  tell  how  much  it 
amounted  to. 

Commandant. 
And  you  desire? 

Mahon. 
We  wish  McDonald  sent  for. 
Commandant. 
Where  is  my  orderly?     Pompey! 

Pompey. 

Here  me.  Boss!    Here  me! 

Commandant. 

[Writes  on  a  slip  of  paper.]     Here,  take  this  to  the 

240 


Tombs,  and  bring  me  straightway  one  Roland 
McDonald,  a  prisoner,  under  strict  guard. 
Pompey. 
All  right,  Gin'l!     But  s'posin'  he  won't  come — 
what  I  gwine  to  do  den?     Humph! 
Commandant. 
Shoot  him  down  on  the  spot! 

Pompey. 

All  right,  Gin'l !     awduhs  is  awduhs  to  dis  chile ! 

All  honah   to  de  Gin'l,   as  it  was  now,   is  in  de 

beginnin,'  and  shall  be  heretofor'!  amen!   [Exit.] 

Commandant. 

Now,  'squire  Legal-cap,  open  your  case.     But 

first  of  all,  let  this  Frenchman  take  the  iron-clad 

oath,  and  swear  also  to  answer  such  questions  as 

shall  be  propounded  to  him.     Swear  him  there, 

Adjutant!     [Captain  Van  Dyke  swears  Froisart  on 

the  Army  Regulations.]     Now  proceed.  Adjutant, 

to  read  the  charges  and  specifications  of  the  bill 

of  the  plaintiff,  verbatim,  etliteratim,  et  punctuatim, 

nothing  extenuating,  and  setting  down  naught  in 

malice ! 

Capt.  Van  Dyke. 
[Reads.] 

Dr.  Frogsheart  to  Thomas  Brown,  Dr. 

Tor  daughter  Julery  $5.00.' 

Dr.  Froisart. 

I  sail  say  I  haf  not  got  one  daughter  Julery! 

She  sail  not  be  name  dat!     By  gar,  'tis  sweendle 

for  me  to   haf   a   daughter,   Julery!     Swear  me 

across  one  Bible — two  Bible — and   I  swear  my 

daughter  sail  not  be  name  dat !     'Tis  a  meestake ! 

'tis  sweendle!      By  gar,  I  sail  not  haf  a  daughter 

name  dat ! 

Commandant. 
What  you  say  is  reasonable;  and  what  answer  you 
for  your  client,  squire  Two-and-two-make-five? 
241 


Mahon. 
I  beg  leave,  General,  to  suggest  that  my  client 
is   no   scholar,  and  what  he  meant  to  write  was 
simply  this: 

*For  daughter,  jewelry  $5.00 

Commandant. 
What  your  client  meant  to  write  is  not  the  ques- 
tion; he  has  in  fact,  charged  this  man  for  a  daugh- 
ter, Julery,  whom  he  does  not  own,  and  therefore  I 
decide  to  reject  that  item.  Proceed,  Adjutant, 
with  the  next. 

Capt  Van  Dyke. 
[Reads.] 
*To  fingerring  for  daughter  50  cts. 

Commandant. 
Well,  old  Bourbon,  how  say  you? 

Dr.    Froisart. 
Mon  Dieu!    'tis  a  lie!    he  sail  not  finger  for  my 
daughter!     I  sail  not  for  dat  pay  him!     Yes — I 
vill  pay  him  exstraw  for  dat  vid  my  sword !     I  vill 
stab  him  and  keel  him ! 

Commandant. 
Lawyer  Briefless,  what  have  you  to  plead? 

Mahon. 
Only  this.  General,  that  there  is  a  shght  mistake 
in  the  collocation  of  letters.  The  item  is  correctly 
thus:     *To  finger  ring,  for  daughter,  50  cts.,'  a  cor- 
rect and  just  charge. 

Commandant. 
Quite  reasonable.  Squire,  if  it  were  written  as 
you  suggest;  but  it  is  written  sic,  and  we  cannot 
change  the  record.  I  confess  that  your  chent  is 
not  extravagant  in  this  charge,  but  considering 
that  virtue  is  its  own  reward,  I  forbid  this  French- 
man to  kill  him,  and  call  them  even.  Proceed, 
Adjutant,  with  the  next  item. 


242 


Capt.  Van  Dyke. 
[Reads.] 

*To  one  pound  of  salt  per-simmon  10  cts.' 
Dr.  Froisart. 
How  is  dat  persimmon?  I  am  positeef  I  never 
eat  one  persimmon  in  my  whole  life !  Am  I  dam- 
full  to  buy  one  persimmon  for  ten  cent?  I  vill  not 
pay!  By  gar,  he  sail  keep  his  salt  persimmon, 
and  I  vill  not  pay! 

Commandant. 
I  must  say  that  a  salt  persimmon  is  to  me  a  new 
species;  what  have  you  to  say  in  defence  of  such  a 
charge,  my  legal  Fiction? 

Mahon. 
If  it  were  not  useless,  I  might  suggest  that  this 
poor  tradesman,  in  his  simplicity,  has  intended  to 
charge  '1  pound  of  salt,  per  Simon' — the  latter  in- 
dividual being,  as  I  am  informed,  the  son  of  the 
defendant,  who  actually  got  the  salt. 
Commandant. 
Very  good,  indeed!  ha!  ha!     I  wish  it  were  so 
written  for  your  sake.     Proceed,  Captain. 
Capt.  Van  Dyke — 
*To  odor  per  self  of  whiskey  50  cts.' 

Commandant. 
My  venerable  medical  Gaul,   how  say  you — 
guilty  or  not  guilty? 

Dr.   Froisart. 

Vat  is  dat  now,  General — odor  of  viskee?    Do  he 

charge  me  to  smell  viskee?     Do  I  pay  him  feefty 

cent  to  make  me  smell  viskee?     Vat  is  dat  dam 

nonsense?     I  sail  have  coast  for  dat  smell  viskee! 

Monsieur  General,  excuse  me,  but  sail  not  he  give 

me  coast,  ven  I  do  not  smell,  and  he  charge  me? 

Commandant. 

Not  so  fast,  my  Gothic  Bolus,  for  you  do  smell 

of  whiskey,  most  viciously,  and  I  incline  to  for- 

248 


bid  you  to  dispute  this  item  by  a  legal  estoppel  of 
my  nose — what  say  you,  old  Double-pleader? 
Mahon. 
If  the  item  is  allowed,  I  need  add  nothing,  al- 
though, otherwise,  I  was  about  to  remark,  that 
in  his  ignorance,  my  client  has  written  odor,  for 
order  I 

Capt.    Van  Dyke. 
The  next  charge  is   [Reads.] 

*Some  odor  per — son  50  cts/ 

Commandant. 
Norman  relic  of  antiquity,  what  of  this  charge? 

Dr.   Froisart. 
Some  oder  person !     Have  I  to  pay  for  oder  per- 
son?    How  can  I  lif,  if  he  charge  me  oder  person? 
How  is  dat  dam  sweendle  for  oder  person  to  charge 
on  me!     No  sare!     I  sail  not  pay  him  dat! 
Commandant. 
Not  reasonable,  we  will  admit !     How  say  you, 
old  Damnum-ahsque? 

Mahon. 
I  am  instructed  to  state,  (all  useless  though  it 
be,)  that  the  charge  is  intended  to  be — *same 
order,  per  son,' — and  to  say  that  this  man's 
son  sent  such  an  order  also,  as  is  here  correctly 
charged. 

Commandan/ 
My  antique  Medicin,  you  are  in  bad  odor,  cer- 
tain, but  not  poison,   or  I  should  have  been  dead 
long  ago!     Counsellor  Pie-poudre,  what  further 
say  you? 

Mahon. 
All  that  I  can  say  is  in  vain,  otherwise,  I  could  in 
an  instant  show  your  highness  that  my  most  un- 
fortunate client's  charges  against  the  defendant 


244 


are  just,  which  charges,  though  just,  have  been 
cruelly  distorted  by  bad  spelling. 
Commandant. 
It  matters  not;  we  are  not  in  your  client's  shoes; 
if  he  writes  ass,  we  must  read  ass,  and  call  him  ass 
— [Re-enter  Pompey]  How  now,  swarthy  Roman? 
Where  is  the  witness  we  sent  you  for? 
Pompey. 
He  aint  no  mo',  sah!  He  done  cease!  He  gone  to 
dat  bumin',  whence  no  dribbler  can't  squench  him ! 
Commandant. 
Is  Roland  McDonald  dead?     Is  that  what  you 
mean?     What  was  the  matter  with  him? 
Pompey. 
NuflSn  at  all,  sah !  he  jist  wound  heself  out  at  de 
small  end,  and  naturally  ceased — kind  o'  expired 
like! 

Commandant. 
Poor  devil — I'm  glad  he's  gone — he  would  have 
given  us  trouble.  And  now  Pompey  clear  these 
headquarters — I  have  other  fish  to  fry.  That 
Frenchman  owes  $1.00  of  this  bill,  which  he  will 
pay  over  to  you  as  costs  for  arresting  him ! 

[Exeunt    omnes.] 
Scene  II. — Same  place,  one  hour  later.     Present : 
Commandant,  Sandford,  Van  Dyke,  Guard  Mas- 
ter, 

Commandant. 
Sandford!  Be  sure  you  justify  my  order  to  the 
public  eye !  Say  that  it  has  been  countermanded, 
but  the  yeo7?Ze  do  endorse  it !  That  publicists,  with 
their  old  musty  rules,  are  far  behind  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  age.  Let  the  city  echo  my  defence  as 
against  the  countermand.  I  wish  you  to  influence 
the  public  mind  against  these  arch-traitors,  and 
their  Copper-head  sympathizers.  Strike  on  the 
245 


anvil  of  the  public  heart,  until  you  heat  it.     Keep 
Saint  Albans  fresh  in  public  memory! 
Sandford. 
I  have  prepared  an  article  I  think  will  please  you. 
It  is  in  reply  to  the  Copperhead  press,  in  their 
attempts  to  make  a  hero  of  this  rebel  guerrilla,  just 
captured — this  notorious  Captain  Bland. 
Commandant. 
Let  him  be  hanged,    with  a  thousand  pounds  to 
his  heels !     I  would  rather  lose  this  right  arm  than 
he  should  escape.   His  execution  will  test  the  ques- 
tion between  the  Administration  and  me. 
Sandford. 
I  have  said  as  much  in  this  article.  The  press  will 
take  its  tone  generally,  I  think,  from  my  leader. 
Commandant. 
Let  him  be  hanged,  I  say !    Let  him  be  hanged, 
the  ruffian. 

Capt.  Van  Dyke. 
And  yet  it  is  said,  he  is  a  Christian  gentleman. 

Commandant. 
A  Christian  fiddle-stick !  a  plague  on  such  Christ- 
ianity !  I  have  no  patience  with  your  rebel  Christ- 
ians! I  tell  you,  Sandford,  I  had  rather  lose  my 
commission  than  omit  this  chance  to  make  an  is- 
sue in  the  hanging  of  this  rebel  pirate.  Bland!  Is 
it  not  time  for  the  Commission  to  report?  Adju- 
tant, what  have  you  o'clock? 

Capt.  Van  Dyke. 
It  is  just  ten — the  hour  for  the  Commission  to 
report  progress. 

Commandant. 
Dispatch  an  orderly  to  inquire  whether  they  are 
ready  to  report? 

Capt.  Van  Dyke. 
They  have  saved  us  the  necessity.  I  see  the  guard 
approaching  with  the  prisoner — ^the  commission 
246 


can  not  be  far  in  rear.   [Enter  Bland,  chained  and 
guarded;  guardsmen  salute  the  Commandant.] 
Commandant, 
Why  do  the  Court  delay — are  they  not  coming? 

1st   Guardsman. 
They  are  here  now — I  left  thim  behint  yonder, 
at  the  door.      [Enter  the  Judge  Advocate  and  the 
Commission,  who  take  their  seats.  General  Crawford 
presiding.] 

Commandant, 
Has  your  honorable  Commission  arrived  at  any 
conclusion  as  to  the  guilt  of  the  prisoner? 
General  Crawford. 
The  Judge   Advocate   has  our  finding,   which 
awaits  your  approval.     I  differed  from  the  major- 
ity, but  yield  to  their  decision. 
Commandant, 
The  majority  in  free  governments  should  govern. 
We  will  dispense  with  the  reading  of  your  finding; 
let  the  substance  be  announced,  and  if  it  be  to  hang 
this  rebel  for  his  wicked  raid,  I  will  approve,  other- 
wise he  should  be  tried  over. 

Judge  Advocate. 
The  Commission  find  the  prisoner  guilty  of  all 
the  charges  and  specifications,  and  sentence  him  to 
be  hanged  by  the  neck  until  dead,  at  such  time 
and  place  as  the  General  Commanding  the  Depart- 
ment may  direct,  a  majority  of  the  members  con- 
curring. 

Commandant, 
The  finding  is  correct — I  do  approve  it.     Write 
'approved'  there.  Captain,   and   hereafter  I  will 
sign,  and  fix  an  early  day  for  the  hanging.     [Enter 
Orderly  Pompey.] 

1st   Guardsman,     [Aside  to  his  companions.] 
Now  by  the  saintly  soul  of  St.  Patrick,  look  at 
the  damned  nagur  lad  there!  how  fine  he  is! 
247 


M  Guardsman. 
I  wish  I  was  here  alone  wid  him  all  sociable  by 
mesilf — divil  a  fine  feather   I'd  lave  upon  the  top 
of  him,  at  all,  at  all. 

1st  Guardsman. 
Wud  ye  pull  the  wool  over  his  eyes? 

M  Guardsman. 
Yis — and  that  I  wud !  Could  I  find  a  footing  for 
me  hand  about  the  twist  of  his  hair,    divil  a  drop 
of  wool  wud  he  have  more  of  it  left! 
3d    Guardsman. 
Dom    the    nagurs — I    niver    loiked    them! 

2d  Guardsman. 
Mind  now  the  strutting  of  him !  Had  I  the  chance, 
I'd  make  the  substance  of  his  shadow  so  small,  the 
appearance  of  it  wud  be  invisible  to  the  eye  of 
is  own  mither — and  be  damned  till  her. 
Pompey. 
Ginul,  dars  a  female  lady  at  de  do'  to  see  you 
and  dese  gentlemen. 

Commandant. 
We  cannot  be  interrupted  now — is  she   white  or 
colored? 

Pompey. 
She's  plain,  sah — plain;  and  she  wants  to  see  you 
and  dese  missionaries. 

Commandant. 
She  is  a  beggar!  tell  her  to  be  gone. 

Pompey. 
I  did  ax  her  dat;  but  she  norate  so  f  ast,  it 'pear 
like  I  can't  qualify  her. 

General  Crawford. 
Possibly  it  is  the  mother,  or  some  relative  of  the 
prisoner? 

Commandant. 
What  does  she  say?  Can  you  not  explain  your- 
self, you  stupid  ass? 

248 


Pom'pey. 

She  rectify  her  words  so  far  apart,  I  can't  tell 
what  she  prophecy !  She  is  too  fractional  for  dis 
chile!  Good  Gorramity!  Here  she  comes  now! 
She  done  busted  thew  de  guard! 

[Enter  Kate  McDonald^  followed  by  the  guard.] 
Kate  McDonald. 

Then  thrust  me  through  with  your  bayonet !  I 
will  not  be  stopped — I  have  been  put  upon  in  this 
way  too  often !  I  have  lost  by  it  my  father — who 
was  all  the  world  to  me !  As  nature  is  my  judge, 
I  will  see  these  men — if  men  they  be,  before  they 
commit  more  murder !  I  will  call  down  the  im- 
precations of  all  good  men  on  them ! 

General  Crawford. 
Poor  woman!  she  is  insane. 

1st    Commissioner. 
How    strangely    beautiful    she   is. 

Kate  McDonald. 
Sir  Commandant,  and  Judges  of  this  Court! 
I  hope  you  will  excuse  a  woman's  mode 
Of  bringing  proofs  abruptly  thus  before   you; 
I  have  but  lately  lost  a  father — dead 
In  prison^ — murdered — if  you  will  permit — 
For  though  you  found  him  guilty,  he  was  guiltless 
And  will  appear  so  at  the  bar  of  heaven — 
Most  innocent  of  every  imputation 
Against  him  charged  before  your  high  tribunal ! 
I  could  have  testified  to  this  myself. 
But  as  today,  so  then,  I  was  barred  out. 
And  thrust  aside,  and  hither  sent  and  thither. 
And  put  off  with  your  urgence  to  affairs, 
Until  for  want  of  evidence,  sheerly. 
My  father  was  condemned  and  died  in  prison. 
Therefore  it  is  that  I  come  hither  now, 
And  break  through  forms  and  precedents  of  law. 
To  speak  in  unjudicial  phrase,  the  truth. 
And  vouch  my  utterance  by  unwritten  proofs. 

240  ] 


I  have  a  friend  arraigned  before  you  now — 

Commandant. 
You  are  a  crazy  woman,  are  you  not? 

Kate  McDonald. 
No,  not  insane,  though  I  have  had  enough 
To  dry  the  fount  of  tears,  and  thus  turn  on 
The  brain  an  unextinguished  flame  of  grief. 
Sufficient  to  have  warped  the  level  mind. 
I  am  well  known  unto  your  staff  here  present. 
The  daughter  of  poor,  dead  Roland  McDonald. 
— ^If  this  be  to  the  purpose  of  this  trial, 

[Exhibits  a  letter.] 
Let  it  with  your  Commander's  signature. 
Be  counted  rational,  though  I  that  vouch  it. 
Should  be  supposed  bereft  of  will  or  reason ! 

General  Crawford. 
Let  the  Judge  Advocate  report  the  contents. 

Judge  Advocate. 
This  is  a  note  signed  by  the  Commandant, 
Relating  to  the  capture  of  this  Bland, 
Which  seems  to  bear  a  pledge  conditional. 

Commandant. 
My  Generals !  I  thought  that  your  commission 
Had  tried  this  man,  and  had  defined  his  sentence 
Which  now  lies  here  proposed  for  my  approval ! 
If  there  be  aught  to  urge  for  him  anew, 
Should  it  not  be  addressed  to  me? 

General  Crawford. 

Let  our 
Judge  Advocate  consider  that. 

Judge  Advocate. 

The  point 
Is  clear:  the  case  has  gone  beyond  our  judgment; 
All  further  pleas  are  pleas  for  clemency. 
And  only  to  the  approving  officer. 
Or  to  the  President,  should  be  addressed. 

250 


General  Crawford. 
Might  not  the  Court  hear  further  evidence, 
Before  the  Gen*ral  has  approved  our  finding? 

Commandant  [Signing  his  name.] 
I  do  approve — so  there's  an  end  of  that; 
But  since  this  woman  makes  a  new  defence, 
And  shows  a  letter  with  my  name  attached, 
I  do  invite  the  Court  to  stay  and  hear 
This  late  appeal  made  now  for  clemency, 
That  when  it  is  rejected,  as  I  shall, 
They  may  report  me  squarely  to  the  world: 
And  now  woman,  what  is  your  prayer  based  on? 
This  letter  you  produce,  ascribed  to  me? 

Kate  McDonald. 
My  plea  is  that  you  do  contract  herein. 
Over  the  sanction  of  your  signature. 
Should  I  betray  to  you — O !  Heaven — I 
Would  spare  myself  before  the  prisoner — 
Let  but  the  Judges  read,  or  hear  it  read. 

Commandant. 
Suppose  this  letter  to  be  genuine, 
Which  it  is  not  material  to  deny. 
You  are,  through  mercy,  as  'tis  argued  here. 
Invited  to  redeem  your  father's  life 
By  giving  such  advices  of  this  man. 
Your  friend,  as  should  conduce  to  his  arrest; 
You  were  to  write  by  the  return  of  mail. 
And  note  your  acceptation  of  the  terms; 
Now  do  you  claim  that  you  so  wrote  to  us, 
Or  that  you  led  to  his  arrest? 

Kaie  McDonald. 


Commandant. 
Why  then  we  thank  you,  and  I  will  release 
Your  father,  in  fulfilment  of  this  letter, 
It  matters  not  by  whom  it  was  written. 


I  do! 


251 


Kate  McDonald. 

Will  you 
Release  my  father  then?     Not  you  but  Nature, 
Who  to  reverse  your  sentence  hath  released  him ! 
Roland  McDonald  will  plead  no  more  to  Court, 
Or  general,  or  president,  or  prince, 
Or  potentate  of  earth;  you  did  your  worst. 
'Twas  you  imprisoned;     Nature  entered  bail. 

Commandant. 
'Twas  Heaven's  will,  therefore,  and  I  am  quit; 
What  more  do  you  desire  or  could  demand? 

Kate  McDonald. 
Not  having,  then,  the  price  you  offered  me. 
You  should  restore  me  where  I  was  before 
You  made  your  offer,  and  release  my  friend — 
You  should  forthwith  set  him  at  liberty. 

[Points  to  Bland. \ 

Commandant. 
And  is  this  all  the  plea  you  have  to  offer? 

Kate  McDonald. 
Nay,  hear  me  further;  is  it  not  written  here — 
In  all  events  his  life  should  be  secure? 
Is  not  this  pledged  and  doubly  pledged  by  you ! 
O !  then  I  do  beseech  you  keep  your  word ! 

Commandant. 
Where  is  the  proof  that  you  conduced  to  this? 
Where  is  the  proof  you  wrote  as  here  required? 
Or  did  accept  the  terms  proposed  by  letter, 
Within  the  time  prescribed? 

Kate  McDonald, 

Judges!  I  am 
A  woman,  unaccustomed  to  debate 
Or  set  in  order  what  I  have  to  say; 
If  I  omitted  it,  I  should  have  said. 
What  now,  before  high  heaven  above,  I  swear; 
I  wrote  in  answer,  by  return  of  mail, 
And  sealed  the  terms  accorded  by  his  own, 
252 


And  then — since  I  must  speak  to  save  his  life, 
I  did  obtain  from  a  young  boy,  his  friend. 
One  Pennington,  their  contemplated  scheme 
Of  naval  warfare  on  the  Northern  lakes; 
I  did  lay  bare  their  whole  conspiracy 
To  one  who,  for  my  sake,  and  sympathy, 
Encharged  himself  to  give  due  information 
To  your  authorities,  through  which  they  have 
Secured  the  capture  of  himself  and  men; 
All  this  I  swear,  and  can  substantiate. 
By  oath  of  him  to  whom  I  gave  the  proofs, 
Had  I  but  time  to  find  and  summon  him; 
His  name  Latrobe — his  residence.  New  York; 
I  feel  assured  that  he  will  seek  me  out. 
And  therefore  ask  but  time  to  summon  him. 

Commandant. 
Judges  and  officers!  that  this  frail  woman 
Was  overtured  in  interest  of  our  service 
To  make  betrayal  of  her  paramour — 

Kate  McDonald. 
My  paramour!     A  lie!  pardon!  pardon! 
But  if  I  had  no  other  word  this  side 
Of  wide  eternity,  it  is  most  false! 

Commandant. 
No  matter — you  do  understand — of  course 
She  would  deny — at  all  events,  her  friend. 
The  prisoner,  whom  you  have  just  condemned, 
Were  now  the  safety  of  her  father  questioned, 
I  would  suspend,  and  hold  myself  not  bound. 
But  justified  to  take  the  proofs  she  asks; 
But  he  has  died;  the  issue  as  to  him 
Needs  no  more  ventilation;  as  to  Bland, 
She  has  no  interest  in  him ;  and  in 
Most  ample  refutation  of  her  claim, 
A  faithful  officer  employed  by  us 
In  secret  service  of  the  Government, 
Has  made  a  full  report  of  how  this  capture 
i5S 


Was  brought  about;  suflSce  it  that  he  makes 
No  mention  of  this  woman,  but  relates 
How  he  himself,  by  vigilance,  achieved 
The  knowledge  that  this  rebel,  in  disguise. 
Was  plotting  wicked  raids  from  Canada, 
And  so  he  followed  him,  and  thwarting  all 
His  plans  at  Middle-Bass,  as  you  have  heard , 
Made  prize  and  capture  of  himself  and  band. 
That  oflScer  has  just  received  the  high 
Reward  we  offered  for  the  government. 
In  all,  receiving  twice  ten  thousand  dollars; 
His  pregnant  silence  as  to  any  aid 
From  her  disproves  this  woman's  evidence, 
And  therefore  I  decide  upon  the  case. 
Your  sentence  is  approved ! 

General  Crawford. 

Might  it  not  be 
As  well  to  send  for  this  detective,  that 
He  may  confront  this  woman  and  refute  her? 

Kate  McDonald. 
O !  there's  a  judge  of  probity  in  truth ! 
I  thank  you  sir !  O !  let  them  send  for  him. 
And  give  me  but  one  day  to  seek  and  find 
The  friend  I  need  to  prove  the  case  I  state ! 

Commandant 
I  do  not  see  necessity  to  send. 
But  yet  as  he  is  near,  I  will  consent. 
Where  is  my  orderly?    Pompey! 

Pompey. 
Here  me! 

[Enter  Latrobe.] 

Commandant. 
Ah !     Welcome  sir !  you're  in  demand ; 
Know  you  this  woman? 

Latrobe. 

Not  I!  I  never  saw  her! 


254 


Kate  McDonald. 
Why  do  you  jest  thus  in  a  case  so  grave? 

Latrobe, 
I  have  had  wide  experience  of  men, 
And  can  detect  by  signs  you  would  o'erlook 
The  health  or  aberration  of  the  mind. 
This  woman  has  a  bee  in  her  bonnet — 
I  never  saw  her  face  before — 'pon  honor — 
I  never  did! 

Kate  McDonald. 
You  do  deny  my  knowledge? 
O!  monster!  villain!  satire  on  our  race — 
Now  do  I  know  that  hell's  a  fiction  mere. 
Or  it  would  gape  and  swallow  you  at  once! 
Did  I  not  read  you  the  Commander's  note. 
And  plan  with  you  the  capture  of  these  men? 
Did  not  you  see  me  write  reply  to  him? 
Is  not  your  name  Latrobe? 
Latrobe. 

Poor  girl!  Poor  thing! 
Kate  McDonald. 
Judges !  I  see  it  all.     I'm  not  insane ! 
This  man  was  false  and  I  discovered  not. 
He  is  foresworn;  now  let  your  Commandant 
Produce  my  letter  written  in  reply. 
From  Canada,  to  him. 

^  General  Crawford. 

The  Adjutant 
Might  answer  her:     Was  there  a  letter,  such 
As  she  describes,  received? 

Commandant. 

I  think  there  was  none. 
But  if  there  were,  'tis  nothing  to  the  point. 

General    Crawford. 
Except,  that  having  thus  far  gone  in  this, 
'Twere  better  possibly  to  show  her  letter. 
If  such  exist — if  not,  we  end  the  matter. 
255 


1st  Commissioner. 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  detained  with  this; 
I  am  quite  satisfied. 

Capt.  Van  Dyke, 

My  clerk  has  found  it- 
It  is  responsive  to  the  one  she  shows, 
And  notes  acceptance  of  the  terms  proposed 
To  save  her  father. 

Latrobe. 

What  date  does  it  bear? 
Let  me  examine  it — 'Tis  well  put  up! 

[Inspects  the  letter.] 
She's  not  so  crazy  as  I  did  suppose ! 
Its  date  is  three  days  later  than  his  capture; 
*Tis  clever — I  like  sharp  practice !  ha !  ha ! 

Capt.   Van  Dyke. 
'Tis  as  she  states ;  our  record  shows  the  capture 
Was  made  the  twentieth;  delivery  here 
Entered  the  twenty-second;  and  its  date 
The  twenty-third. 

Kate  McDonald. 

I  do  remember  now — 
*Twas  written  four  days  earlier  than  its  date. 
Alas!  my  folly!     I  can  establish  it. 

General  Crawford. 
The  post-mark  shows  when  sent,  and  when  re- 
ceived. 

Bland. 
Most  honorable  Court,  and  Generals! 
Let  me  relieve  your  minds  of  this,  at  once; 
It  matters  not  priority  of  date, 
Or  fact  or  fancy  in  the  circumstance 
This  lady  pleads  with  so  great  urgency; 
Poor  child !  she  sought  to  save  her  father's  life, 
And  fell  into  the  toils  of  yonder  man; 
I  do  not  censure  her,  nor  him,  nor  any : 
For  all  the  misadventure  of  my  plans 

256 


I  blame  myself  alone:     I  knew  this  spy, 
And  do  commend  his  zeal :  he  served  you  well. 
But  far  from  me  to  suffer  or  to  take 
Advantage  of  the  covenant  here  urged; 
I  do  disclaim  all  benefit  from  it, 
Condemn  its  morals,  and  deny  its  force; 
I  counted  well  the  cost  before  I  threw. 
Nor  would  I  draw  the  stake  I  hazarded. 
Because  the  die  has  gone  against  me;  yet, 
I  do  not  think  my  acts  were  espionage. 
But  rather  acts  of  independent  war; 
Nor  have  they  gone  beyond  what  partisans. 
On  either  side,  have  practiced  heretofore; 
And  yet  it  is  not  numbers  give  the  act 
Its  hue,  nor  distance  from  the  seat  of  war, 
Nor  danger  to  the  private  citizen — 
For  what  is  war,  but  murder  legalized? 
If  I  am  right,  the  sentence  you  have  found 
Has  gone  beyond  the  warrant  of  your  law,       , 
And  thus  its  execution  will  be  Murder?  ' 

But  let  it  pass:     I  am  content  to  die. 
And  will  not  sue  for  mercy  at  your  hands. 
Nor  ask  for  pardon  from  your  President; 
Not  that  I  scorn  your  leniency,  nor  that 
A  bravo 's  spirit  fills  me  with  disdain; 
But  that  example  pleads  so  loud  with  men. 
That  should  I  falter  at  the  bar  of  Death, 
Or  show  reluctance  when  his  summons  came. 
The  martyr-spirit  might,  perchance,  prevail 
Less  strong  among  my  countrymen  at  home. 
To  whom  I  can  bequeath  no  legacy. 
Save  that  the  name  of  Bland  shall  shine  like  light. 
High-centered  on  yon  sea-encircled  Isle, 
A  pharos  to  encourage  them  to  die ! 
But  could  I  plead  effectually  for  States, 
And  right,  and  law,  and  sovereign  liberty. 
Then  would  I  sue  without  regard  to  form, 
257 


Or  fear  of  too  much  seeming  condescension : 
Then  would  I  plead,  as  now  I  pray  to  God, 
With  all  the  fervor  of  an  earnest  heart. 
That  those  great  truths  for  which  our  fathers 

fought 
Of  equal  sovereign  dignity  in  States, 
And  natural  right  to  change  our  government. 
Should  gain  new  hold  upon  my  countrymen — 
Nay,  circle  wide  and  wider  still,  until 
The  whole  world  saw  them,  as  they  do  the  spheres. 
Revolving  with  their  atmospheres,  to  make 
Eternal  music  where  the  fixed  stars  shine! 
— But  as  it  is,  there  is  one  favor  mere 
That  you  may  grant,  or  I  make  bold  to  ask: 
Among  my  men  betrayed  on  Middle-Bass, 
There  is  a  beardless  youth — one  Pennington — 
For  whom  I  would  engage  your  sympathy. 
Enlisting  in  the  ranks,  although  a  boy. 
He  met  privation  as  became  a  man. 
And  rendered  every  duty  its  demand. 
Even  to  daring  Death  to  challenge  him 
Half-way  upon  the  surging  field  of  fight; 
And  thus  he  met  a  serious  wound  at  Shiloh, 
Which  has  embargoed  half  his  stride  for  life. 
Whatever  of  crime  there  is  in  this  our  act. 
For  which  tomorrow  he  shall  stand  arraigned, 
Is  mine  entire,  and  none  of  it  is  his ! 
And  so  I  would  entreat  you  leave  its  pain. 
Its  penalty  and  sanction,  all  to  me! 
I  found  him  in  his  pupil's  gown  at  school. 
All  full  of  puns,  and  crudities  of  speech. 
And  such  pedantic  show  of  pretty  words. 
As  students,  half  articulate  in  speech. 
Stake  all  their  reputation  on  when  young. 
I  fired  his  fancy  with  my  hopes  and  aims; 
I  led  him  from  the  paths  of  light  and  law — 
The  porch  and  grove  of  old  philosophy — 

258 


The  lecture-bench,  and  notes  of  scholiasts — 
The  heights  which  science,  like  a  star,  illumes — 
To  take  a  share  with  me  in  dangerous  venture, 
And  now  I  fain  would  save  him  if  I  could. 
Poor  boy!     His  life  is  in  its  bud  of  hope; 
But  yesterday  upon  his  mother's  knee. 
He  now  lies  like  a  pall  upon  her  heart; 
I  do  beseech  you  spare  him  if  you  can! 
And  inethe  nearing  future,  when  rough  War 
Shall  r  nder  up  the  sceptre  to  mild  Peace, 
You  may,  perchance,  regard  one  act  of  mercy. 
As  far  more  worth  than  many  sealed  in  blood. 
As  for  myself,  what  I  have  said,  is  said. 
I  know  full  well  in  Whom  I  put  my  trust. 
And  anchored  thus,  what  right  have  I  to  fear? 
These  clanking  gyves  bring  no  dismay  to  me. 
But  rather,  like  electric  wires  that  span 
A  stream,  and  when  the  storm  arises,  fill 
The  air  with  music  most  unearthly  sweet. 
So  do  these  chains  give  out  a  melody 
Athwart  my  life,  that  soothes  me,  when  I  think 
Upon  the  Cause  for  which  I  suffer  them ! 

Guard.      Take  him  away!      Away  with  him— 
away!  [Exeunt.] 


259 


ACT  V 

Scene  l.^A  neat  front  room  in  a  small  tenementy 
immediately  on  the  Hudson^  Water  Street^  New 
York. — Present:  Kate  McDonald  and  Judith 
Vane, 

Kate. 
Now,  Judie,  you  must  leave  me,  and  go  and  stay 
with  sister;  she  needs  you  more  than  I. 
Jvdith. 
Yes,  poor  thing,  she  needs  me;  but,  child,  you 
are  not  going  to  stay  here  alone?     No,  no,  not  here 
alone;  if  your  poor  father  was  alive,  poor  good 
gentleman,  he  would  not  like  me  a-leaving  her  here 
alone.     I  remember  onst,  it  was  just  femenst  the 
market,  on  thirteenth — no  it  was  fourteenth — he 
met  me  a  midday.     Ann,  she  was  with  me,  no 
it  was  Jinnie — no  as  I  live  it  was  Ann — 
Kate. 
Nay,  Judie,  I  prefer  to  stay — it  is  so  sweet  and 
quiet  here;  I  am  not  afraid — 
Jvdith. 
Indeed,  'twere  better  you  go  with  me. 

Kate. 
No,  pardon  me,  but  I  so  much  need   perfect 
quiet.     Come  early  in  the  morning,  and  you  will 
find  all  well  with  me — I  hope.       [Aside]     O!  for- 
lorn and  hopeless  hope ! 

Jvdith. 
Well,  if  you  will  stay,  then  a  good  night,  sweet 
birdie;  take  heart  my  pretty  puss.     I  do  not  like 
260 


to  see  you  looking  so  wild  and  pale:  'tis  a  long 
road  that  has  no  turn;  good  night,  daughter!  you 
must  abed  early  and  get  your  rest;  good  night! 
better  times  will  come  darling — better  times  will 
come — as  your  poor  father  onst  said — it  was  a 
Sunday  he  said  it — a  Sunday  before  Easter  Mon- 
day— 

Kate, 
Good  night,  good  mother!     I  shall  be  better  off 
in  the  morning. 

Judith. 

[Starts  but  turns  back.] 
But  daughter,  had  you    not  better  go  along  wi' 
me?     Now  I  think  you  had  better  go ! 
Kate, 
No,  I'd  rather  stay,  be  not  uneasy. 

Judith, 
Well  then,  a  good  night,  sweetheart;  but  indeed 
I've  sort  o'  token  that  I  ought  not  to  leave  you; 
me  a  turning  back,  too,  and  it's  bad  luck  to  turn 
back,  but  heaven  keep  my  child — good  night ! 

[Kisses  her — exit] 
Kate, 
Farewell,  fond  nurse  of  earlier,  happier  years ! 
Take  with  you  all  a  daughter's  gratitude, 
And  benisons,  upon  the  eve  of  death ! 
The  work  I  have  in  hand  tonight  is  such 
As  devils  would  delight — and  make  the  walls 
Of  hell  resound  with  diabolic  mirth! 
Am  I  too  far  advanced  now  for  retreat? 
Oh,  would  that  I  knew  some  philosophy. 
Or  had  been  taught  religion  when  a  child — ! 
But  can  the  mummery  of  priests  preserve 
The  soul,  or  make  our  life's  attrition  less? 
There  surely  must  be  some  appliancy. 
Or  human,  or  divine — of  thought  or  heart, 
261 


Which  should,  as  compass  does  the  mariner. 
Direct  with  certainty  our  moral  course, 
*Tis  conscience!  and  I  will  obey  its  voice! 
I  will  repent,  turn  back,  and  go  with  Judith. 

[Puts  on  her  hat — hesitates.] 
What  matters  it — why  not  complete  my  role?  *  * 
*Tis  safest  not — 'tis  safest  to  retreat;     *     * 
But  fatherless,  and  loverless — a  fool?    |^,  |^|^^ 
A  criminal?    the  murderess  of  Bland ?Jtvi>  py^ 

[A  knock  is  heard.] 
Who's  there?  *a  friend'?  come  in!  or  friend  or  foe! 
I  am  not  much  concerned  for  either,  now. 
But  rather  desperate  for  both!  come  in! 
Revenge!  revenge!  revenge!  come  in!  revenge! 

[Enter  Price  and  Latimer.] 
Good  evening  friends !  you  are  quite  late ! 

Price. 

*Tis  nine. 
The  hour  for  which  appointment|called  us  thither. 

Kate. 
Is  it  nine?     Yes  'twas  nine  I  said  to  you. 
You  come,  I  hope,  prepared? 
Latimer. 

For  anything. 

Price. 
We  got  your  letter,  but  delayed  reply. 
Until  we  could  determine  who  should  come. 

Latimer. 
The  fellow  is  my  victim !     I'm  the  priest 
Commissioned  to  absolve  this  miscreant; 
I  did  contract  with  me  in  Canada 
That  this  Latrobe  should  die:     I  did  entreat 
Of  Bland  to  let  us  take  him  off  by  night. 
But  he  would  not  consent;  said  it  was  murder; 
And  thus  upon  the  scruple  of  a  life 
He  lost  his  own :  had  he  but  winked  at  it. 
Had  he  but  bowed  through  one  degree — one  minute 

262 


Nay  one  second  of  a  degree,  then  this 

Base  spy  had  died,  and  Bland  been  living  yet! 

What  hour  has  he  appointed  for  his  coming? 

Kate. 
At  ten  I  wrote,  but  he  will  be  before 
That  gun  which  sounded  out  at  one  today. 
With  such  emphatic,  sullen-sounding  throat. 
Commanding  execution  of  my  friend. 
Announced  the  fate  of  Bland,  and  sealed  Latrobe's ! 
Because  he  had  no  mercy,  let  him  die ! 
I  heard  a  spirit  charging  him  to  die. 
Therefore  it  was  I  sent  you  word  to  come; 
Since  he  has  drawn  his  ample  pay  for  blood. 
His  vanity  so  swells  with  self-import. 
That  he  will  throw  aside  his  wonted  care. 
His  sudden  wealth — ill-gotten,  as  it  is. 
Has  turned  his  head; — his  heart  it  could  not  turn. 
The  day  I  left  the  Court  he  followed  me. 
And  I,  perceiving  it,  allured  him  hither; 
Since  when,  each  day  he  has  passed  by  the  house. 
Until,  grown  bold,  he  dropt  a  letter  here, 
A  most  unlettered,  boorish  letter,  such 
As  schoolboys  write  to  barefoot  country-girls — 
Protesting  love,  and  begging  interviews — 
That  he  would  all  his  course  explain  to  me — 
That  he  had  loved  Bland  much,  but  loved  me  more. 
Then  I  replied  in  vague,  uncertain  terms. 
And  granted  him  an  interview  tonight : 
You  will  conceal  yourselves  until  he  comes. 
Then  follow  cautiously,  and  lock  the  door. 
And  when  you  hear  me  give  the  signal,  thus — 

[Blows  a  whistle.] 
Come  in,  and  do  your  work — without  much  noise. 
No  shots — unless  necessity  compel. 
There  is  the  Hudson !  we  can  hear  his  plash. 
Fretting  the  piers,  from  whose  soUdity 


263 


Many  a  sinful  soul,  and  sinless  too, 

Has  sprung  into  the  darkness  which  surrounds 

The  covenant  of  death  and  dissolution ! 

Latimer, 
I  fear  he  may  not  come. 

Kate. 

1*11  answer  for 
His  coming:  for  the  line  with  which  I  angled 
Was  baited  with  a  jQy  that  draws  such  fish. 
Now  go!  lest  he  himself  resolve  your  doubts, 
Before  you  are  prepared  for  such  solution. 

[Exeunt.] 

Scene  II. — Same  place  one  hour  later.    Present: 
Kate  McDonald  and  Latrobe. 

Loirobe. 
Yes,  Katie,  I  have  done  what  you  have  charged 
But  all  I  did  was  done  for  love  of  you — 
And  never  knew  I  woman  yet  to  bear 
Resentment  to  a  man  her  beauty  led 
To  love  not  wisely  but  too  well! 
Kate. 

Your  rashness 
In  love  which  you  profess  for  me,  has  been 
Of  that  wise  sort  that  profits  more  than  prudence. 

Latrobe. 
It  happens  oft  in  love,  as  well  as  war. 
The  stroke  which  startles  gains  the  citadel 
Approach  more  slow  would  certainly  have  lost! 

Kate. 
You  think  your  rashness  then  has  gained  my  heart  ? 
'Twere  easy  won  to  love  a  murderer! 

Latrobe. 

Not  won,  but  summoned  to  capitulate ! 

By  Jove !  you  should  not  call  me  such  hard  names ! 

The  case  stands  thus :  honor  bright,  I  wished  to  save 

264 


Your  father  for  your  sake  much  more  t  h  an  his; 

And  if  in  doing  so,  I  could  promote 

The  Union  cause  by  capturing  a  rebel. 

Why  so  good — that  was  my  good  luck,  his  bad; 

And  if  moreo'er  I  could,  removing  him. 

Remove  a  shade  between  me  and  the  sun, 

All  right — no  truant  lover  would  do  less — 

So  now  I  sit  before  the  citadel. 

And  beg  the  queen  to  jaeld  me  up  the  keys. 

As  mine,  by  the  vicissitudes  of  War ! 

Kate. 
But  then  your  oath!  did  not  you  swear  to  me. 
On  bended  knees,  with  face  full  front  on  heaven. 
With  hand  upon  a  symbol  which  imports 
Solemnity  as  deep  as  human  faith — 
Did  not  you  swear  you  would  not  harm  my  friend? 

Latrobe. 
I  was  disguised,  so  too  was  Bland,  your  friend; 
Our  oaths,  and  promises,  were  cloaks  we  wore, 
To  suit  the  roles  and  characters  we  played; 
We  changed  them  as  the  shifting  scenes  were 

changed; 
But  now  the  play  is  over,  you  shall  see 
Me  as  I  am! 

Kate. 

The  play,  a  tragedy 
In  its  inception  and  dramatic  cast, 
A  comedy  would  terminate  were  I 
To  end  by  loving  you  for  what  you  are ! 
To  end  as  we  began,  most  tragical. 
Were  better.  [A  noise  is  heard  without. "i 

What  noise  is  without — attend ! 
Latrobe. 
'Tis  nothing — market-wagons  passing  by. 
Now,  Katie,  here  is  wine!  let's  pledge  each  other. 
In  this  assorted  juice  of  ancient  grape 
For  love  both  present  and  respectively: 

265 


Come  Kate!     I  pledge  feudality  in  this! 

[he  drinks.] 
Kate. 
*There  was  a  cannon  fired  today,  at  one, 
From  Fort  Columbus  yonder  in  the  sea; 
It  did  announce,  in  its  rough-bellowing  tongue, 
The  death  of  Bland,  whom  you  swore  to  protect; 
The  death  of  Pennington,  a  beardless  boy. 
Whom  but  a  word  from  you  perchance  had  saved; 
For  these  I  swore  you  on  the  cross,  and  you 
Foreswore  yourself;  I'll  swear  you  now  upon 
A  toy — a  little  trifle,  which  I've  here — 
This  ivory  whistle —  [she  blows.] 

Will  you,  by  it,  swear 
That  you  will  ne'er  deceive  a  woman  more. 
Nor  act  the  spy,  not  barter  human  life 
For  yellow  gold,  nor  swear  a  soul  away? 
Methinks  this  toy  will  signalize  reform 
For  you,  and  note  the  end  of  villainy. 

Latrobe. 
Why  'tis  a  toy —  ^  [hhws  it] 

They  use  for  calling  dogs — 
Sometimes  they  come,  sometimes  they  stay  away ! 
Come  Kate,  more  wine!       ^  [he  drinks.] 

It  is  the  cream  of  life. 

Kate — [Aside 
'Tis  strange  they  do  not  come!] 

[  Touches  the  wine  with  her  lips] 
Here's  to  the  good  health  of  your  soul  and  mine! 

Latrobe. 
Well  love's  the  soul  of  health,  ergo  it  is 
The  health  of  souls;  so  here's  to  merry  love! 
You  look  uneasy,  Kate — what  is  the  matter? 
I  hope  there's  nothing  gone  awry  of  pith 
And  moment,  as  Shakespeare  prescribes  in  Hamlet 
*A  signal  for  the  execution  by  hanging. 
266 


One  drink  of  old  Falernian  more  and  then 
We  shall  be  ripe  for  courting. 

[He  drinks,  Kate  blows  the  whistle.] 
— What  again? 
Why  Kate,  you  waste  your  breath,  my  pretty  one! 
You  blew  and  blew,  and  echo  answers  blue. 
The  thing  was  well  put  up,  but  then,  you  see. 
Hail-fire!  the  lowest  cob  rolled  out  of  place — 
Down  went  your  nice  cob  house,  as  I  upset 
This  chair! 

Kate. 
]Aside  They  do  not  come !      My  God !  what  now !] 
[Aloud] — I  do  not  comprehend  your  meaning.  Sir! 

Latrobe. 
O!  Katie,  Katie!  did  you  think  Latrobe 
So  young  a  sparrow  that  he  could  be  *croaked* 
By  dropping  table-salt  upon  his  tail? 
Now  listen,  Kate,  for  you  are  fairiy  caught; 
I  did  suspicion  you  and  brought  with  me 
Some  *body-snatchers,'  as  the  ^cracks'  call  them, 
And  stationed  five  of  these  judicial  friends. 
As  you  may  call  them — *cops' — in  other  words, 
And  seeing  two  stout  *pals'  disgorge  from  out 
Your  outer  door  I  put  the  *shadows*  on  them : 
The  noise  you  heard  was  but  the  fragile  spring 
Of  my  sure  cats  upon  your  little  mice ! 
They're  gobbled,   Katie — gobbled!     Naught   re- 
mains 
For  you  but  yielding  now  to  tender  love ! 
For  honest  now,  and  honor  bright,  I  love  you ! 

Kate. 
Then  in  bright  honor  leave  me ! 

Latrobe. 

No,  not  I, 
Until  I  have  you  pledged  to  marry  me! 

Kate. 
I  marry  you!    O,  devil's  henchman,  fresh 

267 


From  his  instructions  in  malevolence, 
Until  your  rivalry  excels  his  art, 
I  would  as  lief  go  wed  the  rattlesnake. 
And  toy  and  fondle  with  his  horny  rings. 
And  hold  reception  in  a  den  of  them. 
To  feast  on  lizards,  toads  and  scorpions, 
As  marry  such  a  murderer  as  you ! 

Latrohe. 
Is  that  your  game !     You  do  not  know  how  sweet 
You  are,  my  pretty  pet!     The  guardian  knot 
I  can't  untie  by  fair  approach,  I  must 
Unlock  by  foul ! 

You  said  in  your  sweet  note  to  me,  my  dear, 
This  was  a  quiet  retired  place — all  sound 
Within,  drowned  by  the  river's  noise  without. 
Now  think  on  this,  and  be  more  modified — 
More  sweet,  by  Jove! 

Kate. 
Away !     I  fear  you  not ! 
Wretch,  begone !  I  beg  you  leave  me ! 
Latrohe. 

Not  I! 
Ha !  pretty  one !  in  Canada  you  said 
Should  I  catch  Bland   and  save  your  father 
I  should  have  my  reward ;     I  did  my  part ; 
I  could  not  keep  the  breath  in  Roland's  corpse. 
Why  blame  me  then.'^     Come  Kate,  it  is  unfair! 

[He  approaches  her.] 
Kate. 
Stand  back!  if  you  will  have  reward,  then  take  it! 

[Stabs  him.] 

Latrohe. 

O  God !  you've  killed  me,  Kate!    I  did  not  think — 

It  is  the  end.     I  fall —  [Dies.] 

Kate. 

There  let  you  lie ! 

268 


Though  spouting  from  your  wound  a  stream  of 

blood 
Bedew  me  with  its  crimson-flowing  drops — 
I  glory  in  them  like  the  thirsty  earth. 
When  the  warm  showers  of  Spring  descend  and 

wake 
The  flowers  to  unfold  their  tender  buds ! 
You  clamored  for  reward,  and  now  you  have  it! 
'0/  God,* — and  if  perchance  there  be  a  God, 
Distinct  from  matter,  and  supreme  above. 
May  he  have  mercy  on  your  recreant  soul! 
And  that  there  is  a  God,  the  vilest  wretch 
Upon  the  eve  of  death,  hath  intimations. 
Unrecognized  before,  supreme  at  last. 
And  powerful  to  aid  those  whom  He  will! 
The  few  alone,  are  they  his  care,  this  God — 
Or  does  He  will  all  souls  which  He  creates 
To  bloom  celestial  in  their  native  Heaven? 
Ah !     I  would  ask  for  pardon  too,  if  I 
But  knew  whose  pardon  to  propitiate ! 
But  in  the  vast  and  dark  abyss  of  death, 
I  see  but  void  and  apprehensive  ill;  *  * 
And  thou — my  own,  my  beautiful,  my  hero. 
Whose  spirit,  like  a  sword-flash,  leapt  the  gulf 
Today  at  one;  the  noblest,  purest  man, 
That  I  have  been  vouchsafed  on  earth  to  know, 
If  there  be  retribution,  plead  for  me ! 
For  I  am  with  thee,  ere  I  learn  a  prayer! 
I  come — behold  I  come!  a  virgin  soul, 
As  pure  in  act,  if  not  in  thought,  as  thou 
Couldst  wish,  or  any  holy  spirit  would. 
And  father — for  whose  sake  the  world  grew  small 
Like  city-spires  to  fast  receding  seamen, 
As  I  retreated  from  the  peaceful  land 
Of  hfe — receive  thy  daughter  once  again ! 
This  world  is  shelterless,  and  waste  without  thee! 
Here  is  the  link  shall  reunite  our  souls! 

269 


Long  have  I  kept  thee  with  me,  fatal  poison, 
Whose  drops  of  death  are  sweet  elixir  now ! 
Oh  how  I  thank  thee,  bane,  that  peacefully. 
And  without  marring  what  I'm  told  is  fair — 
A  temple  fitly  framed  and  beautiful. 
That  was  not  built  for  violence — I  may 
Smile  on  the  sorrows  which  have  made  me  weep — 
Resign  this  burden,  and  lie  down  to  sleep! 

[Takes  poison  and  dies.] 


270 


NOTE 

Of  the  three  dramas  here  given  two  are  now 
published  for  the  first  time.  The  Maid  of 
Northumberland  appeared  in  1884,  (Putnam) 
and  was  favorably  received.  In  the  first  manu- 
script it  was  perhaps  more  appropriately  en- 
titled "The  Blockade  Runner." 

The  intimate  association  of  the  author  with 
Captain  John  Yates  Beall,  Confederate  hero  and 
martyr^  doubtless  supplied  the  knowledge  of 
Privateering  and  Blockade  Running,  upon  which 
this  story  is  based;  while  Kate  McDonald  is 
very  apparently  drawn  from  certain  historic  facts 
connected  with  the  capture  and  execution  of  Mr. 
Beall  in  New  York,  in  1865.  The  noble  character 
of  Carter  Bland  has  Beall  for  prototype;  and 
"Pennington,"  originally  "Kennedy,"  is  of 
course  the  Southern  boy  soldier  who  actually  be- 
trayed Beall. 


271 


-^Jr- 


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